


Scarface

by shy1941



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, mentions of abuse, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy1941/pseuds/shy1941
Summary: The Joker shows sympathy to a young woman that desperately needs it. Set before the events in the movie, The Dark Knight.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction (or fiction in general for that matter) so any and all criticism is welcome!  
> Also, I take the tags very seriously so please consider them before reading.

Alex felt the sides of her cup rattle as the music in the strip club boomed loudly, the beat pounding through the speakers. She took a deep breath, taking long sips from her drink. Closing her eyes she could still feel the pulse of the music, the red and blue neon lights flashing through her eyelids.

She was working up a good buzz from the cocktail. On busy nights, she liked to hang back at the tall tables near the bar, taking in the scene around her. Stripping was overwhelming at times but she appreciated a job that had great people watching. Even more, she could earn decent money in only a couple of hours. The drink was doing its magic but she was already a few shots in. It’s what it took to go onstage in front of strangers. Without it, she felt vulnerable, the gaze of strangers was uncomfortable.

Alex looked on to a group of men in a bachelor party, hanging near the front, watching the dancers up close, throwing money at the stage. They had a look about them that gave away the fact that didn’t come here often, maybe for just a bachelor party. She turned her attention towards a couple of regulars, businessmen, still in their suits from their jobs. They would come to the club after work, a way to blow off steam from their corporate jobs. 

But at the back of the room, there was a large group of men taking up an entire section of the club, about twenty or thirty of them sitting at the tables. The men were a mixed batch, some of them looked like they were professionals, with high paying jobs and thousand-dollar watches, some were big and burly with leather jackets, laying their weapons on the table. They weren’t really there to look at women, though, they didn’t seem to mind the company. 

Alex knew, along with everyone else that worked here, that they were part of the mob, meeting in a strip club to avoid public scrutiny. And it seemed to work, for the most part. Their club didn’t get too many visits from the police and the type of people that would report their meetings typically weren’t the type to hang out in a strip club. She watched as they leaned in to talk to one another, yelling in each other’s ears over the loud music. 

She noticed one of the men hanging back from the main circle, chatting with one other person. He had white face paint with black over his eyes and red painted across his mouth. Alex chalked his makeup to be another intimidation tactic as it looked like he was another man pining for a way into the mob, chasing money, like everyone else.

Taking a couple more sips of her drinks, she noticed one of her friends on her way over to the bar. She swiftly pulled up a chair next to Alex and ordered herself a drink.

“You going over there?” Her friend asked, gesturing to the group of men in the corner.

“Probably not tonight,” Alex sighed. “I’m kinda worn out, and besides, there’s a couple of girls over there already.”

Her friend shrugged. 

“I mean, I guess you can stay back here if you want to pass up easy money,” she replied.

Alex rolled her eyes, she knew her friend was right. Girls would usually get tipped the most generously by the mob, mostly as a way of rewarding them for letting them meet in the club without making a big deal over it. 

“Fine,” Alex said finally, taking off her coat, revealing the outfit she had worn on the stage; it was red and covered in sequins. It was the second time this week she had worn it to work. Leaving her coat behind, Alex made her way over to the cluster of men, slowly following her friend.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she heard one of the burly men say, eyeing her friend. As if on cue, she immediately sat down next to him. 

“Hey,” she said, back. She started moving her hands up the sides of his arms, he smiled back at her, clearly into it.

Alex scoped the group, looking for any open spaces next to men who weren’t too intimidating. She decided to saunter towards one of the businessmen, smiling and making eye contact.

“Looking for a friend,” she asked, trying her best to sound sultry and not tipsy.

“Absolutely,” his eyes wandered up and down her body. She had enough experience with the male gaze to usually shrug looks off, but she couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable like she was being sized up. 

“Just come right over here.” he beckoned. She could hear he was slurring his words, already a few drinks deep. Her legs swung to one side when she sat on his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders gently. 

“Thanks for sitting with me, baby,” He said, his face only a few inches away. 

“Anytime.” The man quickly focused his attention away from Alex, swiftly going back to his conversation from before.

“Alright, as I was saying….” The man she was sitting with continued talking to the rest of the group. 

He was sitting in a larger circle of about eight men, all with drinks in hand, and a couple of other women spread out in the group. She noted the man with the facepaint again, she watched him while her customer talked. He was locked in conversation with two other men. She overheard one man refer to him as “the Joker” and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “The Scarecrow”, “the Joker” she couldn’t keep up with the constant crime lords in the city, it was exhausting. 

The man whose lap she was sitting on had finished his talking to the group and turned his attention towards Alex, his face leaning in close to hers.

“Would you be up for a round of drinks with us, sweetheart? It’ll be on me this time,” she nodded. 

“Of course,” she said, moving her arms up and down his chest now. She glanced down at his lips as if she were going to kiss him, trying to pull his attention away from the group once more.

“Ok then,” the man said, shifting his position in the chair so she could sit more upright with him. He gestured towards one of the men at the table. 

“That’ll be a total of eight drinks.” She continued lightly touching him, teasing him. She knew not to take things too far with men who came into the club, it was all part of the act, the performance. The man with the drinks came back and handed one to everyone in the circle including Alex.

She sipped it slowly, trying not to get too buzzed in front of customers. The men resumed their business talk, getting progressively louder and more off-topic as the alcohol did its work. 

She finished her drink as she sat through their conversation passively. It seemed like things were coming to an end. The man with her had his hands gently sweeping over her waist. “We were going to head over to the back room if you’d like to come, beautiful?” he said, smiling half-drunk.

The club Alex worked at technically had a policy in place against having sex with the customers, but it was a well-known fact, that girls would often take customers to the rooms that were meant for reservations and private parties to earn a few extra dollars. Alex didn’t have anything against the girls who did, but the whole thing was outside of her comfort level.

“No, thank you,” she replied politely, hoping he would part and still leave her with a tip.

“Really?” He pressed on, “that’s too bad.” He smiled at her, his hands tightening around her waist. 

She stiffened against him, resisting his hold on her. 

“No, I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna have to call it a night.” She said, still trying to maintain a courteous demeanor around him.

The group of men in the mob were all beginning to stand up and leave, some headed towards the private rooms with other women, some meandering their way towards the door. The man she was with hadn’t seemed to have listened as he started standing up, keeping his grip around her waist. Alex stood up with him, hoping to slip out of his grasp, but in standing up she felt the impact of the last couple of drinks, swaying slightly on her feet.

“Well, well”, the man mused as he pulled her upright, but refused to loosen his grip. 

“Looks like you could use someone to walk you out,” he continued. But he wasn’t walking her towards the door, he pushed her towards the back of the club, now with a bit more force. 

“Wait,” Alex protested hearing her voice muffled by the haze from the alcohol.

She began to feel dizzier and her body heavier, as the man shoved her further and further towards one of the reserved rooms in the back, she fell further and further away from herself. She could feel the man’s grasp on her waist and now her arms as he forced her down the back hallway of the club, she felt hot tears running down her cheeks, she heard herself cry out soft-spoken pleas which the man continued to ignore. But the sensations felt distant. 

He pushed her briskly into one of the rooms. Her nausea rose up through her throat as she saw two or three other men already sitting in the room’s scattered chairs. The man shoved her down and she fell to the floor, her knees scraping against the thick carpet. A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her body back upwards, the fingers bruising against her skin. She was about to cry in protest once more when she heard a slight click at the doorway of the room. 

The man holding Alex froze, his body stiffening behind hers. She looked to see the man with the facepaint from earlier standing in the doorway, aiming a gun inside the room. In what seemed like seconds, she heard one of the figures in the room move slightly, presumably reaching for his gun. He halted abruptly as Alex heard the distinct sound of the gun’s silencer, coming from the man in the doorway. A few more shots and he slumped back into the chair, dead. 

“Now,” the face-painted man said, leaning against the doorway, still holding his gun pointed towards the room. 

“What have we here?” His eyebrows were raised. 

“What do you want?” She heard the man behind her say, his hands clutching her more tightly than ever as she winced through the pain.

The face-paint man paused, giving a slight smile. 

“I just want to get to know all of you a little more,” he paused. “You and Maroni’s people,” the man said, a slight lilt to his voice. 

“If it’s money you want-” 

The face-painted man cut him off. 

“No, it’s not about taking your money, but about earning it.” He continued.

“And I like the way you run things, you and Maroni’s people…”’ his voice trailed off. There was an overly theatrical quality to the way he spoke, his expressions exaggerated.

“Okay, okay,” the man behind Alex responded. 

“We can meet up and chat if it’s the mob business you’re interested in. Can you just give us some privacy now, please.”

Alex felt her stomach churn again as the reality of the situation set in once more. She was even more horrified at the notion of the man, dead, still resting in the chair. 

“No,” the man in the doorway said. “I want the girl too.” He had a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked towards Alex. 

“Fine.” Her assailant shoved her roughly towards the door. Shaking, she felt herself stumble, falling into the face-painted man’s arms. 

“You see,” he mused, shrugging off his jacket. “Women always prefer a gentleman.” Alex felt briefly pulled from his embrace as he took a moment to pull his jacket around her. She realized her outfit had been half-pulled off of her torso from the altercation before. He wrapped his arms around her once again, it didn’t feel forced this time. Alex leaned slightly into his embrace, forgetting the danger around her.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice now surprisingly soft. 

“Whaddya say we get out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

The man’s hand began to pull her out of the door frame with one arm, she saw that he still had his gun pointed in the other room.

“We’ll be in touch?” he asked, looking directly at Alex’s assailant. He nodded.

“Yes, of course,” he said, his hands still up in defense.

The man suddenly grabbed Alex’s wrist, jerking her away from the doorframe and down the hallway. She heard yelling from the backroom and their pace quickened. He dragged her towards a back doorway, leading her out into the narrow alley behind the club, into the warm night air. Drowsiness hit her even harder as the man continued to pull her out of the building. Her legs felt heavy and sluggish, while her feet seemed to have lost the ability to balance. The pull from the man’s grasp and his fast pace walk was proving too much for her. 

He swiftly pulled her up, feeling headrush as she was forced upright once more. Her vision blurred and the alley around them spun violently through her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have all night, sweetheart,” she heard the man say, his voice growing more distant from the ringing in her ears. His hand clasped around her hips now as he scooped one arm around her waist, pulling her up and now carrying her, one arm under her back, the other under her knees.

“Hey, who said you could-”

He continued with her in his arms, now at an even swifter pace. Despite her protest, Alex felt her arms cling to his shoulders, trying to gain a sense of balance. Everything around her was disorientating, the streetlights whirred by in trails of light. She thought they might have gone through a couple of blocks when they reached a U-haul truck parked halfway down a deserted street. The man walked around to the passenger side, Alex still in his arms. He opened the door and pushed her inside.

“Listen, I think you should just,” she continued, trying to talk to the man but he ignored her.

“Just stay right there,” he said, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. Alex turned to him when he got in.

“I-” she paused. 

“Thanks for getting me out of there and all, but I think I just want to go home now if you wouldn’t mind driving me to-”

“You got a roommate?” He asked, cutting her off.

“Yeah, what does that have to do with-”

“Do you care about them?” He asked again.

“She’s like my best friend,” she replied, feeling her throat tightening.

“Then, ah, I wouldn’t be so eager to go home,” he jeered, grinning at her. The look on his face seemed sadistic like he delighted in the power he held over her. He turned the key in the ignition, the motor sputtering as started up. Alex’s tears slid down her cheeks once more as she began to cry again, this time sobbing, her chest caving in with each breath. But she found herself trying to hold it in, scared of what the man might do if she wasn’t quiet. Despite her cries, he kept his gaze solely on the road, not so much as turning to look at her. She continued her muffled sobbing until the truck came to a stop. The man got out of the vehicle and quickly circled around to the passenger’s side, wrenching the door open once more. 

“C’mon, darling, I don’t bite,” he said, his expression fading on his face. He pried Alex out of the door, she found herself allowing him to easily pull her into his arms again. She was too dizzy to walk by herself anyway, so she figured she would put off any resistance at least until she sobered up.

He carried her up a steep staircase, presumably a fire escape off of an older building. The man remained stoic, paying no attention to her continued sniffling and tears as he opened a window and carried her inside one of the apartments. He walked in a couple of steps, before finally laying her down on a bed. The springs from the mattress poked upwards into the old blanket covering the top. She was defenseless against him as he loomed over, his face coming in close contact with hers. She didn’t flinch away, completely at his mercy.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips close to her ears. Then, to her surprise, he pulled back and walked out of the room.

Her chest began to relax as she took a few breaths in relief, hoping that her ordeal could be over and grasping to any belief that this man wasn’t ill-intentioned. She shifted her body so her head rested on the pillow at the back of the bed, her eyes turning upwards. The room began to spin violently, the dim light in the corner whirring around the ceiling. She closed her eyes, trying not to be sick, and sinking into unconsciousness.

……

Alex slowly opened her eyelids, the sound of clanging coming from a few rooms down. Pain hammered in her temples, as she desperately tried to take in her surroundings. Looking around the room, there was a window with old dusty framing. It wasn’t connected to the fire escape that they had come through the night before. Gingerly, she swung her legs towards the edge of the bed, her feet softly touching the floor. She began to feel woozy as she stood up, the sickly feeling in her stomach began to rise. Her balance teetered as the alcohol had remained in her system. 

She walked out of the room as quietly as possible, wondering exactly which direction to head next; before she could make a decision, she heard a familiar voice.

“I hear you, sweetheart,” the man said, his voice high pitched and mocking. Alex took a few quiet steps backward.

“Now, now,” she heard, hearing his footsteps come closer, overtaking her. He stepped into the small hallway and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the main living room. 

“Don’t run off so soon,” he said, escorting her to the couch. She decided not to sit.

His face was free of the makeup now. She noticed too large scars protruding from the corners of his mouth as if someone was trying to leave a permanent, wide grin on his face. She had seen the bumpiness of the sides of his face the night before, but now she saw everything up close, unhidden by the facepaint. Alex couldn’t help wondering to herself if the makeup was a tactical attempt to cover them up, to make him seem more intimidating. Without it, he seemed wounded.

Trying her best not to look frightened, she maintained eye contact to avoid staring at his scars. 

“Do you want me to sit down?” She asked, hearing her voice shake. He took a few steps backward, gesturing to her in an overly theatrical manner. 

“Why yes, of course,” he said, “you’re my guest after all. 

He winked at her, before walking back into the kitchen. He had a couple of pans on the stove counter, but Alex couldn’t see what he was making. She watched wordlessly as he stirred the pan with a spatula, the sizzling sound of the pan filling the silence. The sofa was olive-colored and old, part of a small-sized living room, facing the kitchen, it had an older art deco look to it. 

She finally took a deep breath. “So…” she paused.

“Why am I here?” she said, trying to sound polite.

“I mean, do you still think those guys from last night are after us?” 

“You remember last night?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You seemed a little..out of it,” he said, laughing quietly to himself. He took one of the frying pans off its burner, setting it to the side. 

“I’m not sure that you’re the most credible of sources, sweetheart,” He continued, going to his other pan off the stovetop.

“Hey, I mean I know I was drunk, but I remember-” she paused as he looked up at her once more, now walking back to where she was seated on the couch. She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the scratchy cloth on the back of her legs. 

“I mean, it’s not like I was-” she hesitated. 

He was standing in front of her, looking down on her to where she was sitting. Alex didn’t know whether to speak or move. He bent his knees, kneeling down to meet her eye level, his arms folded over his crouched leg. 

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart, spit it out,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, his lips now widening in a large smile. He slowly moved a hand to the top of Alex’s head, moving a few of her hairs that were hanging in front of her face. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked softly, his head moving closer towards her. Her eyes moved away from his, trying to avert his attention elsewhere

“Is it me?” he asked, now backing off a bit, the malicious smile lingering on his lips. He took one of his hands, moving it to his face now, dragging a finger slowly from the corner of his lip all the way to his ear. She understood that he was egging her to say something about his scars but she refused to stoop to whatever game he was playing at. 

“What?” Despite her efforts, she glanced at the corners of his mouth for a split second, mused at her fear. He must have noticed because the grin on his face grew wider like he had caught her acknowledging his disfigurement. 

“I know I’m not the most handsome man,” he started to say.

“Hey, I don’t-” Alex cut him off.

“I mean, I know what it’s-” she continued, stumbling over her words. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. 

“I-I mean, I’m like a stripper or whatever and most people don't really give respect to sex workers”. She breathed, slowly pulling the ends of the coat open, exposing the red strappy outfit she’d worn on stage. It was sheer on the top, the straps over her shoulders stretched out from the altercation the night before.

“I know what it’s like to have people look at you and only see one thing...” she trailed off. 

“So I...I try not to judge, you know,” she murmured. She hoped to deescalate whatever he was trying at.

“My, my, look at you” he mocked, his eyes now moving down towards her body, raising his eyebrows once more. He looked at her differently than the men at the club, his gaze not holding the same sincerity as most. It was more calculated like he was taking advantage of her vulnerability in the moment. 

“I guess I could say I’m a lucky guy.” He said, standing up. He began laughing, the sound of it high pitched and cruel. Alex looked up to meet his eyes, trying her best not to look hurt. It was harder than she thought though.

“Asshole,” she muttered, yanking his jacket back over her body.

“Hey, hey,” he threw his hands up in defense. 

Alex’s cheeks were hot with shame, her stomach rolling with the alcohol from the night before, the feeling of nausea now rising. She leaned forward as she felt pressure in the back of her esophagus. Deciding that she didn’t want to be sick in the living room, she got up and ran back down the hallway, looking for any other doors. She saw a bathroom tucked at the end of the hall and swung the door open without hesitating, running quickly to the toilet, emptying her system from the night before. She noticed the man had followed her as she saw him standing in the doorway in her peripheral. 

….  
The man stared at Alex as she threw up. She apologized profusely in between bouts of being sick, tears beginning to run down her eyes once more. Her makeup was ruined by now, mostly smeared off, the remaining bits of eyeliner and mascara smudged around her eyes. She was still wearing the tan jacket he had given her from the night before, his jacket. It covered her costume, that one of Maroni’s men had partially yanked off as he had tried to take advantage of her. They were all scum in his opinion, but useful scum at that. Their acquaintance was his best shot to manifest his plans. He had to start somewhere. 

He looked at the girl’s partially concealed body, her bare legs, and horrendously high heels poking out from the bottom of his jacket as she hunched over the toilet. She was petite, her arms small and wispy, her hands and fingers delicate, but he could see that her legs were toned, from dancing. She looked as if she was at the end of her sick spell as she pulled back, sitting on her shins.

“I’m sorry, I’m not usually this sick,” she said, her voice quiet and defeated. 

“Don’t mention it, angel, just order your own drinks next time,” he replied. She turned back to him, now looking confused.

“Did you see something?” she asked. “Did that guy put anything in my drink, the bartender has policies against that kind thing…” she trailed off.

“Yeah, ah, those men had all their drinks specially made, sweetheart, it wasn’t just you.” He had seen them with not just drinks but Xanax, codeine, molly, a wide variety. It was likely that this girl’s drink was intentionally spiked to make her more sedated.

“What’s important is that you got out of there.”

The girl looked down now, he sensed her shame that she let herself in a situation where she had no control as if the whole thing was somehow her fault.

“You gotta name?” he asked, changing the subject. She hesitated, he knew she likely didn’t want to give away any personal information. Finally, she put her head in her hands, looking defeated.

“Alex,” she murmured through her fingers.

“W-what about you? You go by ‘the Joker’, right?” she asked, slowly removing her hands from her face.

Her legs shifted on the floor so she could turn to face him. He was taken aback a bit. He knew he was pretty much only known in mob circles but was somewhat surprised that a worker in one of Maroni’s clubs didn’t know of him. He folded his arms over his chest, clearing his throat. 

He nodded in response.

“I guess you could say that,” he said dryly.

“You gotta real name?” she pressed. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but it was still weak, her body still crouched on the tiled bathroom floor. 

He shook his head.

The girl, Alex, looked like she was going to be sick again and he couldn’t blame her. As she started leaning over the toilet once more, he walked in a couple of steps in the cramped bathroom, crouching down to her level. He slowly moved his hands towards her head, gently using his fingers to pull strands of hair back. She immediately flinched, pulling away from his touch.

“Um..” she said, but she was still coughing. 

He took a few steps away and stood back up. She pulled away cautiously from the toilet again after her second time being sick. Her gaze nervously shifting towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, not making eye contact.

Slowly, he knelt down next to her but was careful to keep his distance this time. 

“I get it, sweetheart,” he said, softly, looking at her, but not trying to meet her eyes. He didn’t want to force anything with this girl, he knew that would make her only pull away more. She kept her gaze away from him, but she was glued to her place on the floor, frozen in place. 

“Alex,” he began.

“I know you probably won’t believe me but I want you to know something,” he continued. 

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he said. 

“Those guys, from last night, they’re….well you know,” he trailed off. 

Alex was still silent, he could tell she was tense as she listened to him. He couldn’t blame her, after what had happened. And now she was with him, a stranger, who was to say that he wasn’t the same. But he had to earn her trust. 

“I’m not so...interested in Maroni’s people as they might have you believe”

“Then what are your intentions?” she asked her voice now a whisper.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he replied. They were both silent for a moment, she flushed the toilet and stayed sitting, unsure of whether to get up again with him in front of her. He reached out a hand. 

“I think you could use some more rest.” She looked at him hesitantly but took his hand nonetheless. He watched her as she washed her hands and face, then as she sauntered down the hallway. 

“And, Alex,” she turned to look at him. 

“If you want to leave, you might find Maroni’s people not so, ah, welcoming as I am.”


	3. Chapter 3

Alex woke to the sound of the rain tapping loudly against the windows, the wind howling and shaking the apartment building. She pulled her body up in bed, seeing that the light had now faded outside; she had slept all day. Looking to her right, she saw a glass of water left on the antique-looking nightstand by the bed. She decided not to drink it, remembering the night before. Her body was still heavy and aching from her hangover, but she didn’t feel sick anymore. She pulled her hands in her lap as she sat up, noticing her fingers trembling slightly, unable to tell if it was from fear or exhaustion.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter if she left, but last night had shaken her. Her roommate was probably wondering why she hadn’t come home, she thought to herself. Hopefully, she wouldn’t panic and call the police. The thought of those men getting word of a police report and then finding her roommate was terrifying.

Slowly rising from the bed, pulling the ends of the Joker’s coat back over her body, she walked out of the room and down the hallway. She found him in the living room, the same as before. He was sitting in a chair now, writing in a notebook he had in his lap. He hadn’t immediately noticed her when she walked him as he continued scribbling his pen on the page. It made him less intimidating. Alex gave a faint cough and he looked up at her.

“Look who's back from the dead”. Alex walked cautiously towards the sofa and slowly sat down. 

“Um, sorry about that-” she began.

“No need to apologize.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“I was wondering…” she paused. “If-”

“If what, sweetheart,” she didn’t like the way he cut her off abruptly.

“I think I should call my roommate, you know?”Alex muttered, looking down at her hands. “I wouldn’t want her to worry, or call the police,” she continued. “And if you think those guys would try to find out where I live-”

He gestured towards a phone next to him by the armchair.

“You don’t need to ask.”

She walked towards the phone, his attention now completely on her as she reached down to dial the numbers. “Hey, it’s me,” she began, leaving a voicemail. 

She put the phone down slowly, aware of the Joker’s gaze on her movements. She took a few steps back, wondering if she should just go back to the bedroom when he stopped her.

“You like wearing my jacket, sweetheart?” 

“Uh, sure, it’s not like I have anything else.”.

“There’s a few things in the top drawer of the armoire, take anything you like.” She began making her way down to the hallway.

“You can use the shower too, again, don’t wait to ask my permission.” 

She didn’t respond, walking silently out the door.

Alex went into the last room at the end of the hallway. It was small, and cramped with shelves of books lining the walls alongside a desk in the middle. She noticed there was no bed and began to wonder where the man slept, if he ever slept at all that is. She shuddered thinking of him forcing her to sleep with him in the same bed, praying he wouldn’t. She grabbed a pair of khaki pants and a white t-shirt along with a few towels before heading towards the bathroom. The door creaked loudly as she stepped inside. Walking in, she heard the Joker’s footsteps coming towards the room, he pulled the door back open as she was taking off his jacket. Alex gasped, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I’m not looking,” the Joker said as he covered his eyes with his hands, chuckling to himself. She sighed, wondering how much more she would have to tolerate. The threat of Maroni’s mob was beginning to seem more and more hollow as the hours passed with the two of them confined to the sweltering apartment.

He left the room and she went back to the shower, flipping on the partially rusted handle, the cold water felt welcoming against her hand. While standing out of range of the water she thought of an idea. Leaving the shower head running she slowly opened the bathroom door, trying not to make any noise. She stepped softly, hoping the floor wouldn’t creek under her careful footsteps. Backtracking to his room of drawers, she crept towards the window, lifting the dirty panel. She craned her neck outside, seeing that they were several stories off the ground, but no sign of the fire escape they climbed the night before. Turning around in dismay, she tried to remember any other possible rooms leading to stairs when she saw he was standing in the doorframe, watching her.

“I think you ought to come with me,” he took a few steps forward, trying to grab her hand, ending up with only her wrist. His grip was much tighter on her now, his hand clenching tightly. 

He led them towards the table in the kitchen, pulling out one of the many manila folders that were scattered across the surface. She watched him as he shuffled through the papers and file folders.

“I really don’t think you want to leave just yet.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the file. It had documentation from the police and a picture photocopied on the bottom. The photo revealed a young woman, sprawled out, unconscious over a slab of black asphalt. A long line of chalk wrapped around where her body lay. 

“This is what they have been doing to girls, like you, strippers, escorts, they have their fun and…” 

Alex’s hands were starting to shake. She leaned against the back of the door as she tried to gain a sense of balance.

“Is that what-”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known about this?” Alex asked, fear mixing with anger in her chest.

“Like, shouldn’t you report this to the police if you-”

“They know what’s happening, angel, this is from an official police report.” He sounded agitated, like this should have been obvious to her. 

“I didn’t know about it until a few days ago, believe me,” he whispered, sounding earnest. She was skeptical. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like she had any other options. She wished she could run away, leave the whole situation behind. But what had happened last night had taken that away from her.

“I don’t believe you”. She couldn’t help her voice trembling slightly. 

“I wouldn’t trust me either, Alex, but I think we can help each other, we really can.”

“How?”

“I keep you out of trouble, and you help me with a few things, beautiful, does that sound alright?” His voice was deceptively soft now, contrasting from how he had mocked her. The features in his face seemed tense, focused. She noticed the lines in his forehead, the circles under his eyes. 

“I’ll stay,” she replied. He began to smile and move his lips apart as if to say something else.

“Alright,” his hand outstretched to hers. She took it, shaking his hand like they had made some sort of business transaction. She started heading back towards the bathroom again, brushing past him, he turned back to face her.

“Alex.” She halted, looking back at him. He had an expression that was almost pity, but not quite. The kind of sympathy you give to an animal or insect. 

“Get some rest, sweetheart, you’re gonna need your strength.” He said, still standing in the hallway, making sure she went back to the bedroom.

She paused for a moment, taking in his features in the waning daylight. His figure seemed to hunch over slightly, his shoulders rigid as if they were holding his frame together. Letting herself see his face now, fully. His scars were uneven, the way they left ridges in his skin that distorted the rest of his face. She said nothing as she walked through the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this isn't necessarily my favorite chapter so go ahead and skip it if you like lol. All you need to know is that Alex is put in situations that are forcing her to trust a certain someone.....

A couple of days had passed in the apartment with the same routine. Alex would come out during the day, nervously, while the man sat in the living room. He gave her books to read or sometimes she would scan through the couple of channels on the old tv set. She was quiet for the most part, the Joker asking her questions here and there, making conversation but she wasn’t up for it most of the time.

“Why dancing?” He had asked one afternoon. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa; it was a question she had heard before. It wasn’t usually asked out of genuine curiosity, but rather, disapproval, more rhetorical than anything.

“Um, well, I was on a dance team in high school and I figured, with that experience, I could use it to make some money,” she replied. She was still unsure around him, gaging his objectives in conversation.

“Fair enough,” he replied, nonchalantly. He was still writing in his notebook, seemingly unbothered. Alex noticed he spent a lot of time writing. It was as if he was planning something carefully. She figured that he hardly slept either; she had gotten up a couple of times in the night to get a glass of water and would find him out in the living room, still scribbling away, or on the phone. His forehead would be tense, his eyes slightly squinted as he worked, like he was agonizing over something that was constantly on his mind. But it made him less intimidating as the focus wasn’t on her, she wasn’t the target. 

Alex put the book she had been reading down and ran her palms against the fabric of her pants, flattening the wrinkles that had pooled around her thighs. A reminder that she wasn’t really wearing her clothes, but his. They were too big as his pants would sag around her waist and calves. The first day she had worn them, she saw that they were far too long as she tried pulling them up her sides. The Joker had seen her and chuckled.

“Sorry, darling, you’re a bit shorter than I am,” he had said. He went to the kitchen drawers and got out a pair of scissors, cutting the hem crudely around her ankles while she just stood there.

That wasn’t the only reason she hated wearing his clothes, it was that they were his. They were clean but they smelled like him, musky and minty, and she couldn’t escape it. She just wore his t-shirts to bed, leaving her legs bare. At first, she felt exposed, but she noticed that he didn’t seem to stare at her legs or thighs when she tiptoed into the kitchen at night. He didn’t even turn his head most of the time as he poured over his books and papers, the concentration lingering in his expressions. In some ways, Alex felt relieved that she wasn’t under the constant gaze of another man. But she couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure, less in control. 

Her roommate had called a couple of times, worried. Alex had made up an elaborate story about meeting someone at the club and going home with them. It seemed to work, but she could hear the concern in her roommate’s voice when they talked on the phone like she knew something was off.

“I hear everyone at work misses you,” she said, sounding anxious like she was pleading for her to come back in some way.

“I know.” Alex felt guilty for lying, but there was no alternative. 

One night, after she had gotten out of the shower, walking out of the door, she saw the Joker standing in the hallway. He was wearing his face paint again, the red on his lips curling upwards over the lines of his scars. It was startling, Alex had gotten more used to his bare face. He looked like he was dressed to go somewhere with his long tan jacket hanging from his hunched shoulders. She was still only in her towel.

“Wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?” his head tilted to the side as he looked at her. She shrugged in response, it was late, well after eleven. 

“Do I have to?” she asked, now nervous about why he would need her to go somewhere in the night.

“No,” he said calmly. She exhaled, a bit of relief sweeping over her. He started turning around, walking the other way.

“If you change your mind,” he trailed off. “I’m leaving in about ten minutes, it’s probably best if you stay here while I’m gone..” He was back in the living room now. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Alex thought to herself, considering the proposition seriously now if it meant she wasn’t required to tag along. She thought of sitting in the car with him, the idea didn’t make her uneasy as she had gotten used to his company.

“Actually, I think I’ll go,” she called out to the living room. “If there isn’t any trouble,” she added.

“Fine.”

She continued to the bedroom where she put on a fresh pair of clothes, his clothes, the only option. She pulled on one of the few pairs of shorts that she had found in his drawers, matching it with a buttoned-up shirt. It was thin, breathable, but it had a tacky print of palms covering it. Alex didn’t care though as it seemed to conceal her chest, which was bare underneath. She dried her hair and walked into the living room, hearing the Joker on the last bit of a phone call. His voice always had more bravado when he was talking on the phone like he was performing some sort of role. He hung up and eyed Alex up and down.

“Ready to go, angel,” he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You gonna wear those stripper heels with this?” he continued, his hand gesturing to her outfit.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you have any shoes…”

“Hmm, I think you could use a pair of these,” he grabbed a pair of sandals from the shoe rack beside the door. She put them on, adjusting the straps tightly to fit her much-smaller feet.

“Alright, let’s get out of this place, shall we?” He offered his hand to Alex and she took it, letting him take the lead. 

An uneasy feeling crept under her skin as they walked down the stairwell together, wondering what the two of them looked like. His towering and lanky stature, the makeup, and long thin overcoat. She felt almost naked in her thin ill-fitting clothes, her wet hair seeping through the fabric of her shirt. They reached an old Chrysler parked in the garage beneath the apartment building.

“What about the truck?” she asked.

“I like to mix it up, you know,” he responded casually. She got in after he opened the door for her, her bare legs sinking into the plush leather seats. The hot stuffy air of the garage faded away as they pulled out into the city streets, he barely cracked the windows he let in the humid summer night air.. They drove in silence for what seemed like ages. Alex didn’t recognize any of the streets outside of the window, the side of town they were in was completely foreign.

“Are you from around Gotham,” she asked, deciding to be the first one to talk.

“Originally,” his voice was soft. She couldn’t see his face in the dark. If she didn’t know better she would have thought she was talking to a normal stranger, a friend even. 

“Have you lived anywhere before?”  
He was silent. Alex looked forward at the road ahead, they continued down the wide two-way street, almost empty this late. 

“Um, is it ok if I ask where we’re going?” she asked, hesitantly, hoping to stir up any conversation between the two of them.

“Act-ually,” he began. He shifted the car, slowing down and pulling to the side of the road. Glancing out the window, she could see that he had parked by an old abandoned warehouse, no lights coming in or out of the building.

“We’re stopping here first.” Alex heard the pull of the emergency brake. He paused for a brief moment. 

“Just, ah, follow my lead,” he got out of the car and hurried to the other side, opening the passenger door. They made their way towards the dark structure, the sound of crickets filling the air as they walked. She wondered if earlier had somehow been a ruse if he really did need her with him. The outlines of two figures came into view as they approached the warehouse. One was holding what appeared to be a large duffel bag as Alex’s eyes adjusted in the dark.

Without warning, one of them took several steps forward, raising his arm with what appeared to be a weapon in his hand.

“You said you would be alone,” one of the voices said gruffly. The Joker threw his hands up, while at the same time reaching over, nudging Alex to do the same. 

“Sorry for the confusion,” he said, his tone emphasizing his signature lilt. “But she won't be any trouble,” he continued.

Alex heard a slight click before a bright beam of light was shining directly on her face. Her eyes watered as she squinted and looked away. The Joker’s hand suddenly pulled her waist towards him, his hands pressed gently down on her sides, caving in the baggy shirt she was wearing. She felt the rough fabric of his gloves pull her arms up as if to show that she wasn’t hiding anything. 

“Got nothing to hide, see.” He shoved her to the side of him, stepping slightly in front of her. The light shined over the two of them for a moment. One of the men started to laugh, she could see his face now, bald and round.

“Is she part of the deal too, man,” he started. His head tilted slightly as if to get a better look at her from behind the Joker. He took a step forward, she could see he was flicking the hammer switch on the gun as he neared the other men.

“Excuse me?” His voice was gruff.

“Look, we just want the money, and we’ll be on our way,” 

“Fine.” The Joker pulled a small paper bag from the inside of his coat pocket, throwing it to the ground next to one of the men. One of the men began reaching for it.

“Just, ah, hold up one second will ya?” the Joker interrupted.  
The other man paused, looking at his partner, before throwing over the duffel bag at the two of them. It landed close to where the pair were standing, almost on top of the Joker’s feet.

“Sweetheart, darling, if you wouldn’t mind,” He signaled towards Alex and the bag. She slowly took a step towards the large duffel bag, crouching down to open it. She almost reached the handle when she felt a familiar hand wrap around her arm.

“Um, what do you-” Alex paused, halfway crouched on the ground, the Joker now looming over her as he grasped her arm, she couldn’t tell in the dark but she could almost see his tensed face focusing on the other two as he held her.

“You’re doing fine sweetheart, just watching out for ya,” she saw what he meant as her eyes caught a slight glimpse of one of the other figures, now a few paces closer to her.

Her fingers gripped the zipper of the bag, pulling it slowly down as if unearthing a bomb. It appeared to be an array of firearms, automatic weapons, and knives.

“Jesus, man,” she breathed, looking up at his face. It glowed eerily white against the shine of the flashlight. 

“Zip it back up, will you, doll?” He asked, ignoring her comment. She hurriedly closed the bag, feeling his hand yank her body back into a standing position. He shoved her behind him once more as she continued clutching the duffel bag, nearly falling over with the force of the push and the heaviness of the bag. One of the men started reaching for the paper bag of money, presumably, once more, moving cautiously now. The other with his weapon still pointed towards the pair of them. The man looked inside the bag, nodding to his partner.

“Satisfied?” 

The two men looked at each other in approval.

“Let us know the next time you want to make a deal,” one chuckled. The flashlight shining between them clicked off.

“Best be on your way now,” the Joker mused, his voice more relaxed. The two took a few steps backward, continuing to face him and Alex. They eventually turned, quickly walking back into the unseeable dark of the warehouse. The Joker took Alex’s hand a second time, pulling her along as they walked hurriedly away. 

“What was that all about?” She whispered as they got back into the car. He didn’t answer as they drove off, hitting the gas a bit harder this time

“Need anything from the store?” He asked as they swerved around the corner.

“Uh,” Alex was caught off guard by his question.

“You, know, like a snack, or…” he trailed off, changing the stick shift once more as they turned the corner to a more narrow street. The lights dotted a couple of windows in the buildings that rose above them; Alex thought they must have been apartment buildings. He pulled the car up to the curb, across the street from a mini-mart, the neon letters of the sign glowing brightly, along with the lights inside the store pouring out onto the street through its glass windows. 

“Here, get anything you need, Alex,” he handed her a couple of bills. 

“Aren’t you coming in?” 

“Like this?” He responded, chuckling softly. She saw what he meant as he turned to look at her, face paint, and all. The black and red across his features were fairly shocking, especially after days without seeing his signature makeup. 

“Gotcha,” she opened the passenger door, stepping out into the street. 

She was the store’s only customer, the cashier looking tired behind the register. Looking through the aisles there wasn’t much. Candy, cigarettes, liquor, condoms, she wondered what he would make of any scandalous purchases. She thought for a moment about running or reporting him to the police, he had a car full of weapons and connections to the mob. He couldn’t have looked guiltier as he waited back for her in the car. She wasn’t exactly scared of him either, he had gotten her away from the men at the club. He didn’t seem like he wanted her to get hurt or killed either like he was saving her for something. Alex couldn’t help feeling like a pawn in some game he was playing though. Thinking back to what had happened in the club, there was no other option but to stick with him, at least for now. 

She decided on a bottle of water with ice cream, pulled out of a chest freezer. 

“Need anything else?” The cashier asked her when she took her items to the counter.

“No thank you,” she glanced back to his car, seeing his shadow outlined in the window. She strolled out of the store and back across the street, wondering whether or not he was watching her.

“Sorry, I didn’t get you anything,” she said, getting back into the passenger’s side.

“No, don’t worry about me doll.” He looked over at her ice cream, which she was now unwrapping out of its paper packaging, the moisture from it already sticking to her hands. He started up the car again, coasting back down the road. 

“Ice cream?” he asked. The streetlights from outside illuminated the sides of his face softly.

“I needed it, you know,” she breathed. 

“Hey, thanks for coming along,” his voice was hushed again. “I know this is probably not how you would like to spend your evenings, but I gotta say,” he smirked at her.

“You’re pretty good company.”


	5. Chapter 5

Alex crawled under the covers after their drive feeling satisfied. She had finished the ice cream in the car and he had thought it looked so good he pulled over again so she could buy more for both of them. She savored the second one, greedily. It so felt good to indulge, she hadn’t realized that she forgot what giving in felt like she had been hungry this whole time and forgotten about it.

She slept in the next day, waking only to find the apartment empty as she walked down the small hallway in a slouchy oversized t-shirt. Sitting down in one of the chairs in the living room, the one she usually found him in, she glanced down at his scattered notebooks and papers on the coffee table. A feeling of guilt struck her as she pondered picking one up. Instead, she found one of the books she had been reading the day before.

The rest of the day was spent alone, rummaging through what was left in the cupboards, flipping through the channels on the tv. It was alright by herself, but she continued to wonder about leaving, even more so than she did last night at the convenience store. Maybe he wouldn’t even try to find her if she was gone. She didn’t see any need for her to be there.

The light began to cast long shadows through the blinds on the windows in the late afternoon and once it was dark, Alex began to wonder if he was coming back at all. It didn’t last long as she heard a soft click in the doorframe and the Joker entered, his bare face hidden under a large baseball cap. She felt a slight tinge of pity for him, being forced to hide his face in the daytime to avoid any sort of scrutiny or shock. She wondered if he ever felt ashamed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he looked at her with a smirk. Moments like these almost made it seem as if he really did only have her around for the company. The thought made her shift nervously in her seat. She didn’t watch him walk in, putting her focus back into her book. Instead of coming around the couch to face her, he took a few steps coming up close behind her. He dropped a sealed plastic bag in her seat, landing onto her lap, covering her book. Before she could turn to face him once more she felt his warm breath touch the skin on the side of her neck.

“Put that on for me, doll, would you?” He whispered. She was frozen.

“Now.” 

She got up and hurried to the bedroom. The plastic bag opened easily as her fingers ripped the edges. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out a piece of black fabric, the material soft and textured like it had some sort of detail. Pulling the fabric over her head she realized it was a dress. It was cut down in the middle, revealing the skin over her sternum and the hem fell past her knees. In comparison to her costumes that she regularly wore to the club, it was fairly modest and well-made. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the bedroom to the living room. She saw him in his chair once more, painting on his signature makeup.

“Are we going somewhere again?” He ignored her, painting the sockets of his eyes black, a look of contentment on his face. The Joker finished his work, Alex waiting in the corner, too nervous to move anywhere else. Finally, he turned to her, gazing at the way her body fit into the clothing of his choosing.

“You look beautiful, darling,” his eyes lingering on her face. “Ready?” He got up, walking towards her and taking her hand like he had done the night before, leading her out of the doorway. The two were quiet as they made their way down to his car again, her palm was sweaty in his now gloved hand.

They drove in silence. He didn’t seem nervous, one hand casually gripping the wheel. She saw his other hand, resting on the clutch as they coasted down a long boulevard, the lights from the street dipping in and out of their windows.

“You trust me?” his voice now soft. 

“No.” 

She heard a slight chuckle in the dark from the driver’s side. They turned down another street, this one narrow and poorly lit. She wanted to trust him, wished he was somehow a shoulder to lean on in a bad situation. They made a couple of more turns through roads by abandoned and decrepit buildings. He finally slowed the car down, pulling up in front of a larger structure. Alex thought it might have been an old movie theater or casino with its big bulbed lights lining the ceiling of the entrance. 

The Joker drove a ways past the lot in front of their destination, parking the car a couple of hundred feet away from the entrance. He opened the door to the passenger side when they got out, insisting that he take her hand. She reached over, hovering her fingers over the tips of his at first. Slowly, she wrapped her bare skin into the soft leather of his glove, intertwining her hand with his once more.

The pavement was wet from the rain that had come earlier as they walked towards the entrance. Alex shivered from the fresh cool air that brushed against the skin of her arms and chest. He led her to the front door, where there was a security gate with an armed guard waiting. The man gestured at the two of them to walk through an airport metal detector, the Joker flashing the inside of his coat as if to prove he was unarmed. 

When the two of them walked inside, Alex was struck by the smell of smoke and liquor lingering in the thick air. Instead of the familiar boom of her nightclub, she heard the sound of sultry jazz music, turned down low. She noticed an array of men scattered throughout the room, all in business suits, similar to how some of Maroni’s men dressed in the club. What she didn’t expect though, were the women. Most walked around in short, low cut evening dresses, some even without fabric running over their chest and shoulders, exposing their breasts. She watched the way they confidently let the men drape their arms around their shoulders or lead them around to the bar and down the long hallways at the sides of the room.

The walls were lined with angled glass mirrors, reflecting the blue ambiance lighting which dimly lit the entire room. She caught a glance of her reflection as they walked passed, surprised at how conservative she looked in comparison to the other girls hanging off of the men. The long hem of the dress and her makeup-free face set her apart from the way the other women oozed sex appeal. It almost made her feel insecure. 

The Joker pulled her to a circular booth towards the back of the room. She sat close to him, leaning in a bit against his frame, not wanting to be pulled into the scene around them. She noticed how he seemed to scan the room, his head turning towards every direction.

“A-are we waiting for someone?”

“Yes,” he looked down at her, smiling faintly. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer so that they were almost glued together, sitting side by side. It was almost comforting the way the heat of his arm bled through the long sleeve of his jacket that hung around her body. One of the men in suits came up to them, shaking hands with the Joker.

“Hey, man, they invited you here too?” He sat down beside them, the Joker’s grin widened. 

“Of course,” he smiled at the man, probably thankful to see another familiar face.

“Damn, this is the place to be with all these women,” he sighed. He scanned the room, the number of girls had increased as there were seemingly more and more women walking into the room, looking to accompany the men that came in the front doors. The Joker ignored his comment but instead kept his focus on the front entrance, watching the men steadily come in one at a time. 

“You see anyone you like?” the Joker asked.

“No, man, I’m strictly here for business,” he said. “I see you got some company,” his attention now turned towards Alex. The Joker laughed.

“No, no, she’s just my..ah..business partner. It’s not like that.” The man raised his eyebrows in response.

“Alright, that’s cool too,” he smiled. “Sounds like business is good for you.”

The Joker tightened his grip around her shoulder.

“It is,” he paused, nodding in agreement. “She’s been a great partner so far.” Suddenly, the Joker seemed to have gotten caught off guard by someone at the entrance. He reached out to shake the man’s hand once more.

“It’s been a pleasure but we have to go,” he stood up, keeping his grip on Alex. She looked towards the group of men that had just come in, seeing one of them was the man that had tried to drag her to the back room of the club the other night. She breathed in sharply, grabbing onto the Joker’s arm with both of her hands. He continued his way over to the group.

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart, I’m not gonna let him get you,” he said in an almost mocking way. As they got closer, he took one of his arms and snaked it around her waist, holding her steadily against his body now.

“Well, well, gentleman, it would seem we had another deal to make.” There were four men at the bar. It seemed like they were in the middle of getting their drinks when Alex and the Joker came up to them. The man from the night before looked surprised when he saw her.

“I agreed to meet you, not her.”

“Well...that’s not what you said,” The Joker egged him on. The man took a long sip from his drink.

“A deal’s a deal,” the Joker continued.

The man continued to look at Alex, raising his eyebrows as he stared into her eyes and then shifted his gaze to her body. It wasn’t as if she had much to show, she thought. He had already pulled her top down during the incident from the last time they had seen each other. 

“Alex?” They were interrupted by a voice a couple of tables away. A young man stood up from one of the booths. He wore a tie with his hair slicked back, making him look older than he really was. He approached the bar, meeting Alex’s eyes as he got closer.

“Do you work here now, or something?” He had a half-smile on his face. 

“No, I-I’m working with him,” she patted a hand on the Joker’s chest. “We're partners,” she said, hoping the uncertainty didn’t show through in her voice.

“Alex, come on, it’s not like you have to pretend,” he continued, a look of disbelief on his face. A burst of anger rose in her chest as she remembered the way he used to make her feel. It wasn’t as if he had always been like that, but his snideness had gotten under her skin. It didn’t help that she also saw the man who assaulted her nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, honey, it looks like he’s got you where he wants you,” he commented now, looking towards the Joker, with his arm still clutching her waist. Alex looked to him desperately, but he just kept focused on the men in front of them, unflinching.

Without thinking, she pressed herself closer to his chest, taking the lapels of his jacket between her hands. She pulled them towards her, standing on her tiptoes to meet his face, pressing her lips against his. She felt the soft scar tissue press against her face as she kissed him, his mouth swaying to her movements like he was letting her have her way. She felt his hands slowly move to her waist, not pulling her closer, just holding her against him. 

It didn’t last long, she let go of his jacket, pulling out of his embrace, her feet now planted on the ground. She didn’t dare look at his reaction, ashamed of how he might jeer at her for kissing him. But she was most afraid of how good it felt. She didn’t realize how much she had craved someone else’s touch, how he had been so gentle and attentive.

“I guess we’re not partners if Alex is calling all the shots,” she heard the Joker say. She saw the young man’s face in genuine surprise, even disbelief. 

She felt a surge of adrenaline mixed with embarrassment as she untangled herself from the Joker’s arms. It wasn’t just the feeling of touch but the effect her action had on the other men standing around them.

“I-I think I’m gonna go get myself a drink,” she pushed past them, walking steadily towards the bar at the back of the room. She heard the Joker’s footsteps hurry to catch up with her.

“Gin and tonic, please,” she had already caught the bartender’s attention as she approached. She figured women probably weren’t the typical guest invited to Maroni’s club unless they were working.

“No problem,” the bartender replied. Her voice was low and sultry. Alex awed at her dark and smokey makeup paired with her short, low cut dress that hugged her body, showing off her hourglass figure. 

“Well, sweetheart, I gotta say, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” The Joker had caught up to her and was now leaning against the counter of the bar. He grinned at her, but this time he almost seemed to beam at her with a sense of pride.

“Well, I, um,” she paused. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”The bartender finished Alex’s drink, handing it to her with a smile seeing the man that accompanied her.

“Here you go.” She didn’t ask for a payment, making Alex wonder if she thought Maroni paid for all of his guests. She breathed in deeply, closing her lips around the straw, taking big sips from her glass. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a friend in the mob,” the Joker asked, watching her finish the cocktail.

“Jordan’s not part of the mob, really, far as I know,” she replied, putting her now empty drink on the bar.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s my ex,” she said, the Joker’s face vacant as if he was pondering how to react. The group of men walked back towards Alex and the Joker at the bar.

“Hey, Joker, are we gonna have our little chat now or?” It was Alex’s assailant.

“Yes, of course,” the Joker was pulling himself away from the bar, taking Alex’s hand as he had done before. 

“No, just us.” The Joker stopped. He looked as if he was searching for a way out.

“Alex will stay with me,” Jordan stepped in, offering to take Alex away from him. “I’ll keep her company, while you two have your meeting.” The Joker looked to Alex now, for a response.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He squeezed her hand.

“Well, I should be ok with Jordan for a little bit,” he still looked unsure as he gazed at her face as if trying to gauge what she was feeling.

“Ok.” 

He walked off with the other men, leaving Alex on her own.


	6. Chapter 6

Alex decided to order a second drink alongside Jordan at the bar while she waited for whatever the Joker was doing with Maroni’s people. She had seen Maroni himself walk in followed by an entourage of women, of course. Jordan watched her as she sipped her cocktail. She tried to brush him off, talking more to the bartender. Though, her anxiousness set in thinking of him coming back. She pictured an altercation or worse, exchange, where he gave her over for information or money. The thought had crossed her mind. She didn’t trust him, the way he put her in harm's way.

“So...how’d you get with that guy anyway,” Jordan asked, breaking the silence between them.

“It’s a long story,” Alex sighed.

“But you’re not, like, actually with him?” He hesitated. “Like ‘together’ together with him?” He appeared to be somewhat serious as he asked.

“No, we’re just working...on something together.”

“Oh ok.” They went back to silence. Alex took the remaining sips of her drink. She liked the way the liquor burned as she swiftly gulped it down. It wouldn’t have been right to savor it, her nerves getting the better of her.

“So how’s dancing? I, uh, hear a lot about you at that club.” She swiveled the barstool to face him now. 

“It’s great,” she said flatly. “I make a lot of money and-”

“You know I can always help you with that,” he cut her off. She wanted to roll her eyes, he was always interjecting, trying to make decisions for her.

“It’s not really about how much money I make, Jordan,” she retorted.

“I know, but it’s just, I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, I know how those clubs can be, especially with the mob,” he said.

She looked at her hands in her lap now, wondering if he had heard about the incident a few days earlier. She hated how, in some sense, he was right, her job had put her at risk. But she couldn’t rely on him. Thinking about their relationship in the past, she had always depended on him, in so many ways. She couldn’t go back to that. Before she could respond, she heard a door slam down one of the hallways, further in the back of the building. She saw the Joker, walking quickly towards her, followed by Maroni’s guy. He grabbed her by the elbow, wrenching her out of the seat at the bar abruptly.

“We’re leaving.” 

The two of them started towards the front entrance when she heard Jordan’s voice yelling at them from behind.

“Hey!” The Joker only glanced over his shoulder, but Alex dug the heels of her shoes into the carpet, trying to force him to stop. He seemed to give in, as he halted his pace, letting her turn around.

“Alex, let me handle this situation,” he looked back at the group of Maroni’s guys who were already heading in their direction. 

“Just come with me, we’ll work this out.” He walked up to the center of the room where they were standing. Alex sighed in response. Looking back to the bar, she saw several people now watching them as their confrontation unfolded.

“Well, what’s it gonna be sweetheart?” the Joker said. His voice wasn’t his normal mocking croon, it was low and gravely now. He loosened his grip around her arm, letting her out of his reach. She wondered for a moment if he would really allow her freedom or if it was all a ruse. She considered Jordan’s seemingly genuine concern, but despite her better judgment, it was nauseating to think of siding with Maroni’s men. She turned back to the Joker.

“You’re right, we should really be going,” she said to him.

As she turned around to leave with him, she felt a hand on her shoulder yank her body backward. Stumbling over her feet, she fell back into Jordan’s hands. He quickly dragged her further inside.

“This isn’t helping you at all, Alex, the way you’re just clinging to another guy,” Jordan whispered, she could sense his lips close to her ears. His hands grabbed at her hips now as she tried to keep her feet planted, struggling to break free. 

He brought her to one of the tables with sofas that circled around it, attempting to box her in so she couldn’t run. She began shoving him with one of her free arms but he grabbed it by her wrist, along with the other. He jerked her back and forth, taking her sense of balance.

“Stop it, Jordan,” she pleaded, seeing that the other men were now surrounding the two of them.

She wrenched one of her wrists out of his grasp and he tried to grab her once more. She kicked his knees before he had time to, freeing herself from his grip. But without him holding onto her, she fell. She heard the breaking glass before realizing that it was a glass table that had broken her fall, the pieces in miss-array around her. “Bitch,” she heard Jordan mutter before she felt a pair of hands pull her out of the mess of glass.

The Joker was nearly dragging her out the door as they both ran away from the group of men that were now encroaching on them once they were outside. They both scrambled to climb into their seats when they reached the car, him slamming the door, accelerating hard and pulling away so fast that Alex didn’t have time to put her seatbelt on. They were screeching around a corner when she finally yanked the belt forcefully over her shoulder, feeling something wet seeping into the fabric of the belt. Gasping, she saw it was her own blood, oozing out of her upper arm. She began to notice the pain that ripped through her shoulder where the skin was lacerated by what she assumed was a piece of glass that cut her when she fell. She drove away the tears welling in her eyes, not wanting to make any obvious movements towards the Joker. 

They slipped away in silence for what felt like an eternity. Alex didn’t dare say a word but she could tell he was angry when they left. After a while he had slowed the car down, seeing as there was likely no one that had caught up to them. He shifted the gears back down, slowing to a stop in a back parking lot behind a high rise hotel. He didn’t get out, Alex sitting anxiously still next to him. Finally, they saw a man walk out of one of the back doors. 

“You come too,” she heard him mumble from the other side. They both approached the man now standing in a secluded part of the lot, out of the way of any lights from the building. He handed the Joker a small envelope.

“Here’s your room key to get in and out,” he explained. “You don’t have to check out, everything is prepaid so they won’t ask you for a bill.” The man was a lot shorter than the Joker. He seemed young too, almost adolescent in the way his gangly arms hung from his thin frame. She thought he maybe worked at the hotel, wondering how the Joker had all these different connections with people.

He looked at the two of them for a moment, Alex was still wincing from the cut on her arm. She hoped he couldn’t see the blood that was still seeping out of her shoulder.

“I think you should take the back elevator, you know, best to stay out of sight.” He sounded like he was trying to hide hints of nervousness in his voice.

The Joker looked at the man silently for a moment, opening the envelope. He nodded, seeming satisfied. But before any of them could even start to say goodbye, the Joker pulled a gun out of his long coat pocket, shooting the man several times. He was dead instantly.

“Hmm,” he muttered to himself, walking towards the back entrance of the hotel.

Alex didn’t follow, she stared downward where the man’s body laid. Slowly, she knelt to the ground. He looked as he did before but his eyes now closed, resting. The shot from the gun still rang in Alex’s ears.

“You coming?”

“I, uh,” she didn’t know what to say, still in shock. She took another few breaths in, trying to ground herself. He looked somehow younger with his eyes closed, even with the twisted expression left on his face. 

“I don’t think I want to,” she said finally. 

The Joker turned back towards her in the alley, watching the way she crouched on the ground. She could sense his growing irritation, his face still shrouded by the shadow from the building, imagining him sneering at her as he had done before. 

She turned back to face him now, not quite knowing where to look. She couldn’t quite make out the features on his body, let alone his eyes. “I just want to leave...you,” she paused. The silence between them seemed heavy. He had always said she could leave, but doubted his sincerity and now, even worse, she felt as though she were disappointing him. He huffed out a breath in disbelief. 

“And do what, exactly? It’s not like you have anywhere to go.”

“Just anywhere, I can’t stay with someone-”

“Here’s the thing, doll,” he cut her off. “If you leave, the mob will find you, I can guarantee that. They don’t care if someone like Jordan wants to protect you.”

He took a few steps forward until he was standing over her. She looked away, refusing to look up at him, wrapping her arms around her body like a shield. She didn’t like the way he continued to inch towards her. 

“They’ll do what they want, and then they’ll kill you, plain and simple.” 

She wasn’t looking at him but she could tell from her peripheral that he was reaching out a hand. She folded more inward, still backing away from him. But there was a sense of magnetism drawing him closer. Something had happened that night that had changed and he was no longer going to give up easily. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” she whispered. She stood all the way up by herself, backing away from his reach. He took a step even closer, closing the distance between the two of them. The physical difference between the two of them was more apparent as her head only rose to his chest. She stared forward, studying the stitched diamond pattern of his shirt. 

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me, Alex. I’m not letting you leave.” She heard a soft click. Looking down she saw he held the gun at waist level, now pointing at her.

“So, you’re gonna just kill me too?” She breathed. 

“Alex, I’d rather do it myself than subject you to whatever Maroni’s guys have planned.” He shrugged, reaching out for her face, the leather of his glove now cradling the back of her neck. He leaned down to her height, holding her jawline in a vice, forcing her to look at him. She couldn’t move or cry, stunned that he was now threatening her. The leather of his gloves felt sharper as his hand clenched around her throat. 

“I won’t shoot you if that’s what you’d like.” He put the gun back in his pocket, feeling around for a moment. He retrieved a small black object. With a swift click, a blade appeared on the other end.

“If you prefer something more...personal.” She started to resist his grip, coming to her senses, but he raised the knife to her neck. She could feel it’s sharpness as he held it delicately against her skin, her breath hitched as she flinched away. She felt her bottom lip tremble in fear but the intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on her, the heat from his whole body radiating on her skin. His touch almost felt welcome after days without seeing her friends, deprived of something as simple as a hug or a reassuring touch.

She could see his features up close now, the way the paint creased into the lines of his forehead. His eyelashes were silhouettes now, backlit by the building behind them. He had an excited look in his eye that she hadn’t seen before. There was a glint of sadness as well like he was disappointed in how she had reacted.

“Don’t make me, Alex,” she heard him whisper. She thought he almost sounded sincere as his gloved fingertips crushed the bare skin of her neck. It created a new visceral pain that made her forget about the cut on her shoulder. She took a breath in, coming to terms with the situation.

“Ok.” She exhaled.

His grip loosened gently as he let her regain her balance on her feet, not trying to hold her hand this time. She was dizzy with anxiousness, breathing fast and hard, even gulping for air, not realizing she had been holding in her breath. He started to return to the back door of the building and she walked by herself behind him, hunching over from the pain leftover in her shoulder. He opened the door, leading her to the service elevator inside. 

“You need to clean that up,” he said as they were riding up together, he looked down at her cut, it had stopped bleeding but it still felt sticky when she put her hand on it.

They made it to the top floor, the elevator halting as he ran the room key over a sensor that allowed it to open, revealing a large hotel room, it’s living space spanning a long way to the windows. It was filled with furniture, the upholstery lining glinting in golden threads. Chairs and loveseats were placed throughout the room, in the hallway leading down to the bedroom as if the space was meant for as many people as possible. She took a step back.

“What’s...all this?” she said breathlessly. He grabbed her arm again, lightly this time, pulling her forward. “Just trying something nice for once, you know. I don't like to stay in one place.” She heard the elevator doors close behind her as they entered. The windows went from floor to ceiling, exposing the city skyline outside. The lights shone a soft glow throughout the room, illuminating the decorations on the walls. It was almost too luxurious, the design trying too hard to create a spectacle. She didn’t want to look at it anymore.

Alex started making her way towards what looked like a bedroom, eager to put some distance between the Joker and herself. She walked down a small corridor, finding a spot that seemed the furthest away from the living area. She slammed the door as she stumbled in, immediately sprawling onto the plush comforter that covered a king-size bed. 

She could feel the tears start to roll down her face, even with her eyes closed, soaking against the fabric as she lay face down. The lights were off, keeping the room dark, only the faint lights from the city outside outlined the corners of the room. Laying there for what felt like only a few minutes before she heard a soft knock at the door, her eyes closed as her tears continued to trickle down the sides of her face. 

“Alex?” He slowly opened the door, creating a harsh line of light from the outside.

“Alex, let me see your arm.” She could hear him shuffle over to where she was laying on the bed, now holding her knees tucked into her torso. She felt his hands on her again, now bare, brush against the cut on her shoulder, recoiling as his touch reignited the pain. Opening her eyes finally, she watched him look at her, his gaze fixated on her cut. He noticed her studying him.

“Come out here for a minute and I’ll patch you up, sweetheart.” She met his eyes now, skeptical. There was something nice about the way he touched her, comforting, even after everything. She couldn’t deny it.

“Ok.”

She let him help her up. Her eyes had to re-adjust to the light from the rest of the hotel room as he walked her down to the kitchen. He brought her to the kitchen where the lights were the brightest in the room. She decided to lean against the counter as he went to grab a duffel bag, setting it on the counter. After gathering a few items, he went back to Alex, looking down at her, shaking his head.

“Why don’t you sit here,” he put his hand on the marble white countertop of the aisle in the middle of the kitchen. Alex looked up at him for a moment without moving.

“Fine,” she said finally, using the palms of her hands to lift herself on the counter. Sitting, she was closer to eye level with him. He reached out, carefully holding her arm in one hand. She shifted her body so he could have better access to the part of her upper shoulder. Sitting on the edge, her knees were softly touching his legs, feeling her skin crawl where her knees met the fabric of his pants. He took a syringe out of the duffle bag, positioning it against her arm. 

“This is only going to hurt for a moment.” He hovered it over her shoulder, where the cut had opened on her arm. Looking down, she saw the cut in full light up close, it was jagged, opening the top layer of skin, creating a crevice in her arm. The sight of it suddenly gave her a rush of lightheadedness with the realization that she hadn’t yet seen the full severity. He slowly pushed the syringe under her skin, pushing in a clear fluid around the gash on her upper arm.

“What’s that?” For all she knew he could be drugging her. The limitations of his actions seemed off the table after this evening.

“It’s a local anesthetic.” He continued his focus on her shoulder, pushing in the rest of the solution with his thumb. After he was finished, he put the syringe back into the bag, retrieving another set of medical instruments. He brought out a long needle with surgical suture. He threaded the needle through the black thread, his fingers moving quickly, confidently like he had done it before. He raised the needle to her shoulder and hesitated. 

“Hold your arm out closer to me.” She started moving her arm up, though she tried to keep her hand away from his body, feeling a bit awkward from the closeness. 

“Here,” he took her hand, placing it on the center of his chest. “You can hold on to, my, um, vest, just hold steady.” She blushed in spite of herself, remembering she had kissed him earlier. He started working and she instinctively flinched at the pressure from the needle in her skin. 

“Don’t worry Alex, you won't feel any pain,” he said, continuing despite her movements. She held onto the crease of his vest, wondering if she could feel him tensed up beneath his shirt, or if it was just her imagination. His face was even closer now, she could count the crevices in the curved scars, noticing how the face paint settled into his pores around his nose, how the black paint in his sockets also clung to his eyelashes. 

“Why’d you kill that guy?” She asked, her voice steady as her nerves had finally settled. He had slowly made a few cross stitches down her cut, her hand still loosely holding his shirt.

“Why do you care?” He made the fourth stitch, pulling it slowly upwards. “Hmm?” he raised an eyebrow but kept his attention to her shoulder.

“I mean, he didn’t do anything and isn’t it like, risky to just go around and-” He paused, holding the needle above her shoulder, looking her in the eye now. She wanted to lean back, against his stare. 

“You don’t think I know that?” He leaned in even closer so that their noses were almost touching. His eyes were filled with amusement, watching carefully for her response. She decided not to back down, remaining stoic as he loomed over her on the counter, her grip clenching hard onto his shirt.

“Well then,” she paused. “Explain.”

He shrugged a bit. “Well if you really want to know…” he began slowly, starting on the next stitch. “He’s one of Maroni’s people too.” She watched now as he pierced one end of skin and began steadily moving the needle towards the next. He was almost done now, her cut now looking sealed off. It should have shocked her, the sheer gruesomeness of seeing the insides of her skin, but it didn’t. It mesmerized her, knowing that such an injury could be fixed so easily. It was satisfying.

“I also had reason to believe he was planning on ratting us out.” He started making a knot at the ends, tying off his work. “And, you see, I couldn’t risk that after tonight.” He cut the excess thread at the end of his knot. 

“So, I did what I had to,” he looked back to her, meeting her eyes once more. “Understand now?” She let her hand fall from his shirt, clasping her fingers together in her lap now. 

“Yeah, but, just killing him?” 

He let out a half chuckle in response. “Why even worry about it, sweetheart, it’s not like you knew him.” 

“That’s not the point.”

His gaze on her grew more intense as his smile grew from a smirk to a wide grin. “Then what is the point, huh? The worth of one person’s life or your own sense of self-righteousness, doll?” He put both his hands on the counter, surrounding her body. She wanted to stay still, to keep from letting him intimidate her.

“Self-righteousness?” She replied, rolling her eyes in his face. “That’s rich coming from a guy who just shot someone.” His shoulders were tensed from the way he hunched his upper body, leaning towards her. His legs were fully pressed against her knees now, his whole frame caging her in where she sat on the countertop. She knew she was nagging him, wanting to see how far he would go. 

“Is it now?” He pressed her further. She shrugged in response, but he remained almost on top of her, his body nearly pressed against hers on the countertop. Instead of backing away, she leaned towards him, carefully, keeping the slight space between them. She started moving her knees apart as if she was inviting him to move even closer, submitting to the threat he was putting on her. Her eyes slipped from their contact with his down to his torso. She raised her eyebrows, looking over the way he had pressed himself against her. 

He seemed to have taken the hint, because he backed away carefully, ending their moment of closeness. It felt as if a line had been crossed between the two of them. Their relationship was moving away from complacency into one of raw tension, of push and pull.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, ah, tell me more about this guy of yours? Hmm?” He pressed. She slipped off the countertop now that he had finished with her arm. The balls of her feet made a soft thud as they hit the ground. 

“Jordan?” Her body was now leaning against the kitchen isle, wanting to keep the space between them. 

“He’s a typical rich guy, nothing surprising,” she said. He gave a single nod.

“So, the surprising part is just that he’s part of organized crime?” He turned back to the kitchen counter, reaching for the cabinets. He opened the first wooden glazed door, pulling out a glass cup.

“Is it all that surprising in this town?” She huffed.

“I see your point.” He was turning on the sink now, filling the glass to the top with tap water. He turned and handed it to her. She looked down at it, skeptically. She didn’t like to keep taking the things he offered her. After a pause she clasped her hands around it, pulling it towards her, watching the way let go, making sure she wouldn’t drop it. He was considerate when he wanted to be. It reminded her of the way he had kissed her back earlier in the evening, how his lips seemed to yield to her, almost out of pity. It was if he allowed her to indulge in a moment of desperation. 

“How did you two meet?” He continued asking. “You seem to both have very different...ways of life,” he smirked at her again. She hated that he continued to tease about her job like he knew it was a point of insecurity. 

“Highschool,” she said flatly. He raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Seems awfully young to-”

“He was twenty-six, I was seventeen,” she cut him off before he could finish. She was irritated by the continual condescending remarks.

“He got a place for us when I turned eighteen, so it was legal you know.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“We broke up almost a year ago,” she exhaled, looking down at her feet.

“Uh, dancing was...um, the only way I could support myself after I left.” Her legs were pressed together as she held herself. Standing in the kitchen, her arms were now folded around her chest, realizing she had just confided in him. It wasn’t intentional, but it felt good to see him pause in silence for once. He didn’t say anything, only offering the glass to her again. She took it, taking a few steps past him in the kitchen, making her down to the bathroom. 

As she entered the marble was cold against the skin of her bare feet. Closing the door slowly, she took one of the long white towels hanging from the rack by the granite-topped sink. The whole bathroom was half the size of the apartment they had been in before, the shower in a corner with its doors frosted glass. There was an entire separate bath that took up another wall, the white sides held up by four small metal feet under a window that looked out into the city.

Alex unzipped the back of her dress slowly, letting the fabric fall off her shoulders before pulling the whole thing down her legs. She didn’t have any undergarments except for the underwear she had worn to the club the night she was assaulted. She wore it only once more this evening as an exception of having to wear a dress. Even though the hem was long, she didn’t want to risk anything. Shimmying them down her legs now, she was relieved, free from the Joker’s clothes and her old sweaty pieces from the club.

Her head turned to the long ornate mirror. Staring at herself, her eyes wandered over her body. She couldn’t help but like the way she looked, how her figure accentuated her curves and features without the hindrance of clothes. Her hands slid down to her hips, grounding herself. She hated the way the men from the club had looked at her. It wasn’t their gaze alone that bothered her. A passing glance from a stranger was expected, welcome even at times. 

But she hated the way a pair of eyes would graze up and down her body intentionally, like she was a commodity meant for them. It made her feel less human, as if who she was as a person was being stripped away. Like the only thing that mattered became the way her body appealed to men. This wasn’t something confined to strip clubs, it had happened since she was a teenager. How men thought about her legs wrapped around them or how they would fantasize about her long hair draped over her bare shoulders and back. 

She sighed. The Joker didn’t even so much as turn his head her way. She wondered if he did it intentionally, though he seemed more enraptured in his schemes with the mob to care about how she looked. Stepping into the shower, she washed away the sweat and grime from their evening, careful to not get her new stitches too wet. She wrapped herself in one of the oversized fluffy robes the hotel provided when she was finished tiptoeing back to the large bedroom at the end of the hall, she buried her face under the covers, exhaustion dragging her to sleep.

…

He was gone again when she finally got up. Wandering out into the large living space, rays of sun streamed through the blinds, lighting up the marble kitchen and the glistening details of the upholstery. His absence was brief this time as he entered through the elevator doors into their room, though he still had his greasepaint on. She wondered if it lingered from the night before.

It took a moment for Alex to realize that he wasn’t alone this time, he was trailing a smaller figure behind him, a man. Once the doors had closed behind them, the Joker pulled the man into the room, grasping him by the arm and yanking his frame forward so hard that he fell to the carpeted floor of the hotel room. The man started to get up again but the Joker drove his hand into his chest, knocking him off balance so he tumbled once more. In the moments that he was down, the Joker knelt next to him, placing a hand on his chest and slowly moving it up towards his throat. She realized his fingers were clenched to the handle of a switchblade, holding the edge of the knife towards his throat. She shuddered, remembering how he had threatened her only the night before. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he began. He sounded more unhinged than ever.

“You give me his location or…” he smiled down at the man, the blade of the Joker’s knife pressed even harder against the surface of his skin.

He raised his eyebrow at his victim, the grin widening on his face. She could see now that the knife was beginning to draw blood as it made small abrasions on his throat. The Joker looked at ease. It was almost eerie the way he knelt on top of the man, his smile and posture relaxed. 

“Ok,” the man’s voice was trembling. “I’ll give you what I have, please.” 

The Joker nodded. The man slowly moved a hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, folded up piece of paper.

“Here.” 

The Joker took the slip in his free hand, still keeping the blade tucked between the man’s collarbone and jaw.

Alex was frozen in place in the corner of the room, hidden slightly by the walls of the hallway. She hadn’t moved the entire time, too scared to make any noise or distraction from their confrontation. As the man began to rest his hand down at his side, he turned his gaze in her direction, his eyes widening as they fell on the corner where she stood. She started backing away, hoping to hide in the hallway when the Joker turned his head as well.

He didn’t linger on her presence, turning his attention back to his victim. He took his grasp off the man’s chest, removing the knife as well. He started to pull himself up off the floor, the Joker even offering his hand as he stood up. The man looked ready to run out of their hotel room but the Joker took a few steps ahead of him as if he was showing him out the door, but he followed the man outside of the room, leaving Alex in silence again. Cautiously, she walked over to one of the seats in the living space, tucking in her knees as she sat, chewing on her nails as she thought of him returning.

He was only gone a few moments before the door clicked open, his face twisted into a grimace. He made his way over to the dining table, dropping the knife and slip of paper onto the surface, shrugging out of his long coat and wrapping it over one of the chairs, taking a seat.

“C’mere, will ya?” She turned her head to where he was sitting, making eye contact. But she turned her head back, scared to even look at him. 

“Ahh, come on sweetheart, don’t like me anymore?”

He got up, slowly pacing over towards her. She didn’t dare look at him as he walked in front of the chair where she sat, bending down to place a hand on each armrest on the sides of the chair. His whole body engulfed the chair, his gaze now blazing down on her. She kept her head down, refusing to look at him. A pair of gloved fingers curled under her chin, digging into the skin under her jawbone, forcing her head to tilt upwards. He smiled, his face moving closer to hers

“Stop,” she whispered. He took his hand off of her jaw, but kept his position over her.  
She tilted her head further down, tightening her grip around her knees.

“look at me, please, sweetheart.”

With her head turned away, she closed her eyes, squeezing her lids together, praying that he would back off, let her retreat for now. It was terrifying, seeing him after the confrontation with the man. She wasn’t used to seeing him in action, how he intimidated people and manipulated them in full force. Her arms trembled in their grasp around her legs as she heard him lower himself down to her level in the chair.

“Resistance isn’t going to make this any easier, Alex.” His fingertips brushed over her skin once more, only this time, creeping up her arm. She flinched away.

“I thought you weren’t even going to touch me,” her voice came out as a soft whimper. His gloves brushed further up her arm, towards her shoulder, feathering the stitches from last night.

“You know,” he began. Her head was tucked between her knees.

“You really shouldn’t shower with stitches still in.” He took one of his gloves off, gently pressing his now bare hand on the skin around the wound. She tilted her head up to look at him. 

“Could get infected if you’re not careful,” he nodded, looking at his stitching clinically, his fingers still moving in small circles around her cut.

“Your skin’s a bit warm, but it doesn’t look too bad.” He pulled his hand away. His voice was soft and crooning, a contrast from the way he had been jeering at the man, only a few moments earlier.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on it, ok?” His eyebrows raised at her now, standing up and moving away from her chair. She sucked in a deep breath, relieved he was leaving her. But frustration a hint of frustration began to burrow in her chest. He had been violent to a man she had never seen, and now he wanted to act like nothing was wrong. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Who was that” He stopped.

“I don't know who you’re referring to,” he said.

She huffed out another breath, sliding her feet to the floor.

“You know exactly what I mean.” she tried to sound defensive but her voice began to waver.

He turned back around.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said flatly.

She got out of her chair, making the few strides to meet him where he stood in the carpeted room. Her chest was burning now, it drove her mad the way he looked so snide, the way he was pretending like everything was in his control.

“What are you gonna do now sweetheart, hmmm?” He craned his neck lower, as if trying to meet her level but he still towered over her. 

“Why don’t you just kill me?” She breathed, looking up at his face, but avoiding his eyes. 

He shrugged nonchalantly, 

“I'm using you for blackmail, sweetheart. It wouldn’t go so well if you were dead.” He began to back away, letting the words sink in. If he was agitated enough to let them slip out. She wondered what else he might be hiding from her.

“What then?” Her arms were folded over her chest now. It came across as more defensive than tough. 

“You just gonna kill me when you’re done?” He paused to her surprise. Taking a few strides, he closed the distance between them once more. She wanted to back away but his hands caught the sides of her arms before she could move. He leaned in close this time, not being careful to meet her level, but inching his face close to hers. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, the heat of his breath pouring onto her face. His grip around her arm was tightening. As the realization of his words set in she thought about running away, struggling from his grasp before flying out the door, running down the stairs. She wriggled her arms. To her surprise, his fingers loosened her grip and let her go as she tripped backwards and took a few steps to regain her balance once more. The thought of escape seemed more plausible, but she knew even if she got away in the moment that he would catch up to her, find her somehow. Tears of frustration were beginning to run out of her lids as she grimaced, her breath sputtering into a panicked gasp.

“Just kill me now,” she cried out at him. Her arms were locked around her torso as she tried to hold herself up.

“I don’t want to be a part of your games anymore,” she knelt to the floor. To her surprise, he crouched down next to her.

“No.” his voice was soft in proximity to her ears. He put his hand on her back, barely letting the weight of his arm rest on her. His hand slipped away from her back, moving to the side of her head, his fingers beginning to cup the outline of her jaw, his thumb brushing the wet streak off the side of her face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kinda been going through some ups and downs the past couple of weeks. In retrospect, this chapter has moments that are very representative of how I personally deal with fear and stress. So... enjoy if that's your kinda thing to read about.

He got up, leaving her by herself on the floor. She waited until he was a few feet away before rising to her feet, shaken from the confrontation between the two of them. Making her way towards the table and she began to notice the small array of coffee pots, espresso, and accompanying pastries.

“Have anything you want, angel,” he said, pulling out one of the chairs from the side. His expression veered off down the hallway, not acknowledging her after what had happened.

He left her alone, not taking anything he had ordered. 

In the late afternoon, he told her his plans for meeting with Maroni’s people again. Her stomach lurched at the possibility of seeing Jordan. But there was no escaping the Joker and his schemes now, he had made it clear that they were chained together at this point.   
The way he talked to her now, there was a new softness in his demeanor. She figured it was an attempt to make up for the abrasive tone he had used with her more increasingly in the past days. 

“We’re going to make him pay for what he did, sweetheart,” he had said. 

He argued that they would use her blackmail to publicly ruin the man who attempted to assault her, therefore ruining him rather than going to the police with any accusation. Despite her reservations, he did have a point. The police weren’t going to go forward with any formal punishment to a member of Maroni’s mafia, especially coming from someone like Alex. The prospect of revenge didn’t really appeal to her though, she would just vanish, run away from it all if she was given the choice.

He let her pick out her clothes for their next meeting with them. It was small, but she could see that he was trying to win her over after what had happened. He had never done anything to treat her maliciously, but after displaying violence in front of her, she didn’t look at him quite the same. And she knew he could tell. 

They went together to get her clothes later that night, pulling up in his Chrysler to a small building down a deserted road. The paint was peeling around the edges of the wooden door frame as they walked through. He led her into a small tailor store. The owner was a short woman, older. Her glasses sat halfway down her nose, the blush on her face settling into the fine lines around her cheeks.

“Pick out whatever you want, doll,” he gestured towards the selection of dresses. Most were shades of neutral, grey, brown, navy. She was drawn towards the group of black dresses, kept to one side, their hems were much shorter than the previous dress he had made her wear to the mob’s club. It was frustrating the way he forced her to do everything. She had worn his clothes, stayed in his places, followed every word he had given. Even given the opportunity to choose something on her own, she could sense that it was calculated. He was presenting her with the illusion of choice, allowing her a small piece of freedom. She resented him for it. 

Her hand brushed over one of the dresses with a plunging neckline and off the shoulder sleeves covered in a soft laced pattern. It was elegant, yet daring. Alex knew it would be fitted around her shape, the hem and sleeves would make it difficult for her to make any quick movement. It was probably the last option he would want.

“I like this one,” she took it off the rack, looking up at him. 

“Ok.” If he had any reservations about her selection, he didn’t show it. 

They continued through the store, grabbing other clothes she might need during her stay with him. It seemed like she wouldn’t be going home anytime soon as she was made to get shirts, pants, and undergarments. They rode back in the car silently together. She didn't bother trying to make conversation this time. He had taken her away from anyone that she cared about and she began to think more seriously about the growing chance that she would never see them again.

It wasn’t like she had too many people in her life to begin with, just a handful of girls she was close with, her roommate and her coworkers. They seemed far away now, from another lifetime. But she missed being able to confide in someone, get everything off her chest, whisper secrets. Her body was heavy and fatigued when she crawled into the bed at the hotel room later that night, sinking quickly into sleep.   
Beams of light were beginning to angle into the blinds when she woke up the next day. Rolling over, she decided to lay in bed a bit longer. Her eyes sank under her heavy lids, just watching the wooden beams on the ceiling. The afternoon sun began to turn golden, the shadows elongating, creeping along the sides of the room.

Wearily, she got out of bed, defeated. Dread pulsed through her body thinking of the day and subsequent evening he had planned. She dragged her feet down the hallway to the master bathroom in their suite. The shower stood empty in the corner, a reminder of how he had monitored her stitches, the skin of his fingertips against hers. Instead, she turned to the bathtub by the windowsill. Her fingers ran across the small chrome handle of the tub before she turned it, letting only the warm water out into the white porcelain basin. 

She took a couple of the variety of soaps and oils tucked on the side of the vanity, pouring them into the stream of the water as it began to rise. She stuck her hand in, the pleasant warmth of the water seeped through her hand as it inched further towards the rim of the bath. Shimmying out of her clothes, she brought her long, narrow calves into the water before sitting and then finally, submerging her body completely. 

The water felt much warmer around her torso and thighs than just her hand. She turned the spout and the stream of hot water slowed to a drip. The tub was roomy, it could have easily fit two of her. The back of her neck leaned onto the rim, letting the rest of her body slide into the water, her knees slightly angled upwards. Her eyes were closed, the water around her steaming and the scent of the oils rising. For a brief moment, she felt ok, her mind empty, forgetting about the danger that surrounded her.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the buildings through the large glass window over her tub. The lights of the city were just beginning to peek through the sides of the buildings in the setting sun. She watched as the sky got gradually darker, turning from gold to pink and eventually, blue. The temperature of the water got cooler, more tepid.

There was a knock at the door, thrusting her out of her reverie. Knowing it was probably him, she didn’t respond, hoping he still might leave her there. The knocking continued after a few silent moments, followed by the slow creak of the door and his figure stepping into full view. His face was bare once more, revealing the ugly patterns of scars on his face, his undereye bags now fully exposed under the harsh lights of the bathroom. She knew he couldn’t see her body from the doorway, as she was concealed by the tall rim of the tub. She slid under the water, immersing her face while strands of her hair stayed floating at the surface, her breath kept in, waiting. He was still there when she came back up, her hair plastered to the sides of her face.

“If you stay in too long you’ll prune, dollface,” he looked impatient. She didn’t care, it wasn’t her life she was in charge of anymore.

“What does it matter to you?” He took a few steps closer, his gaze remaining steadily on her face, not once looking down lower. 

“Don’t you remember, sweetheart?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“We have a date this evening, remember?” he chuckled lightly to himself. She sighed. His persistence and focus were constant. She stretched her legs out, flattening her lower back against the bottom of the tub. Her head lowered down further into the tub, sinking her chin and mouth into the water, her eyes looking back up at him. He kept his gaze on her eyes. 

“Come on, sweetheart, it won't be so bad,” he murmured. His tone was surprisingly soft, almost sounding genuine. He crouched down to the level of the tub, his hand reaching out and brushing a few of the wet pieces of hair away from the sides of her face, his gaze intentionally kept away from her exposed body in the tub. She pulled her head away, breaking eye contact.

“Alex,” he began.

She sighed in defeat

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be ready, ok.” She pulled in her legs, getting ready to stand up.

“Can you, uh, give me some space,” she said. He turned around quickly, looking away as she pulled herself out of the tub, going towards the rack of towels.

“Uh, don’t be long,” he said, walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Alone again, she dried off, wrapping the towel around her chest, finger-combing her wet hair. The hotel’s hairdryer was small, but sufficient in getting her hair partially dried. She put on the dress she had chosen for herself, pulling the fabric from her knees to her shoulders, the seams gently tightening around her figure as she zipped it up on the sides. Going back to the bathroom, she made her way to the vanity where she had been allowed to have a couple of makeup items lying on the counter. Her fingers toiled with the plastic wrappings still on the set of mascara and eyeliner. Hastily, she used her fingers to put some concealer under her eyes. The darkness drooping from her lids wasn’t caused by a lack of sleep but rather constant stress and tears. She drew thin lines and wings above her eyes, then coated her lashes with mascara. Looking back at her reflection, it was more familiar. She wore makeup more often than not and going without for so long made her feel even more vulnerable, more exposed. It was like another blow towards her sense of self. 

The way he was giving her more allowances and choices were intentional, but she couldn’t help but feel more confident looking at her outfit and makeup together. It gave a sense of security in herself seeing herself dressed in a way she had control over. 

He was in the living room waiting for her. 

“Alright, beautiful, shall we get out of here,” he held out an arm for her to loop hers in. She decided to play along.

“Ok,” she said, looping in her arm, leaning in close to him as they walked towards the doors leading out to the elevator. The unease and anxiety began to roll back in as they got closer to the door, the reality of it all putting pressure in her chest. Her grip on his arm stiffened as her thoughts began to race, trying to find a way out of the situation he was dragging her into. 

“I, uh, just want to say something,” she began, trying not to stutter her words out. He would know if she was trying to bullshit him.

“Thanks,” she said, looking down.

“You didn’t have to do anything for me when we met and I’d be dead if you hadn’t,” she exhaled. It was genuine. She couldn’t deny that she felt a type of gratitude towards the way he had taken her in.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll.”

“But really, no one else would have-”

He held up his hand to stop her, cutting her off before she could finish her thought.

“You shouldn’t have to thank someone for that,” he said.

She kept her gaze on the floor, studying the detailed pattern of squares, head tilted down so he couldn’t see her face. If she was going to try to sway him, she had to be more than convincing, it would have to be real.

“I-I’m just trying to say,” she stumbled over her words.

“I know you’re using me,” she breathed out.

“But still, you didn’t have to-”

“No,” he said, interjecting again

“I know deep down, you care,” she continued.

“About me,” she folded her hands together nervously. It was honest, the way she felt taken care of the past weeks, the way he had gone out of his way to make sure she wasn’t in harm's way. It was manipulative, but it had felt good at times.

She leaned her head on his arm, beneath his shoulder, sinking into the fabric of his coat. Maneuvering her arm out of his, she reached her hand down, her fingernails pressing into his skin as he let their hands intertwined. It wasn’t part of her fabrication, the way she gripped him tightly, terrified about the evening ahead, the world he was dragging her into the outside of the hotel room. He held her with his other hand now, seemingly giving in to her worry.

Moving her body in front of him, she pressed her forehead into his chest, her second hand now locked with his. His frame was rigid as he seemed surprised she had initiated this much between the two of them. She pulled her breath in and out, not crying, but steadying herself.

She tilted her head up at him, looking into the sockets of his eyes painted black. He wasn’t entirely unattractive, even with the disfigurement of his scars. His sharp jawline, his forehead even his brown eyes didn’t go entirely unnoticed by her. She had seen the way his cheekbones moved when he smirked at her, giving him an almost boyish look. Although his greasepaint settled into the lines and pores of his face, she could tell his skin still held plasticity and youth. He wasn’t much older than she was, even if he wanted her to believe otherwise. 

Her eyes moved to his lips, which were thin, but framed by faint laugh lines, buried beneath his scars, giving away the slight possibility of a person who had a life before rising in the ranks of Gotham's criminals. Slowly and hesitantly, she crept her head up to his, standing on her toes, straining her neck to meet his height. He was caught off guard, allowing her to press herself closer against him, but didn’t react, remaining still. His eyes roamed her face as if he were reading her, looking for the sudden change in her behavior. 

She paused, before kissing him on the cheek, pulling away to look at him again. It reminded her of working at the club, the way she would put on an act for men. Looking into his eyes, the colored brown irises beneath the black paint smeared around them, she tilted her head, kissing his lips softly, lingering for a moment before pulling away and kissing his jawline. She swayed her shoulders and head back to gauge his reaction while gazing up at him with her eyelids strained downwards as if she were holding back tears. He maintained his stance before pulling his fingers out of hers but keeping close, his figure pressed up against her chest, towering over her.

“What are you playing at?” His smirk creeping back upon his face as he grabbed her around her arms, his grip loose enough to get away. But she knew he wouldn’t let her go, he was trying to be easy on her, forgiving. 

“I just thought-”

“You think I can’t see right through you, Alex?” He was everywhere around her, cornering her with his arms and frame. He was holding back, she had seen the way he attacked others without hesitation. But this was somehow even more unnerving.

“Ok, fine,” she cried out as he loomed over her even more.

“I’m scared and I thought you’d listen if-”

“Alex.”.

“I’m not going to listen to anything you have to say.” He let go of her, cackling. 

“I mean, really, Alex, you think I’d just go along with you, back to the hotel room and we would do what, exactly?” He winked at her. Taking a few steps back he laughed harder, looking at her with wild amusement as she remained glued to the wall.   
“Hey, I admire the nerve, sweetheart, I’ll give you that,” he said, brushing out the wrinkles on his coat from their confrontation. He took a step forward, pushing the down button on the elevator. Her mind was frazzled as he yanked her with more considerable force, pulling her into the elevator with him. 

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded. He got in behind her, standing in front of the exit.

“I’m just so scared,” she continued, her voice tightening.

Neither of them spoke a word as they made their way through the back of the hotel, into the streets of the city. She held her arms against her chest, the feeling of his grip lingering in her mind. They made their way to the same club as before, only this time the lights were mostly off, dimming the room even further. There were only a few men sitting at the table in the middle. She could make out Maroni’s face this time alongside Jordan. The man who had assaulted her was nowhere in sight. 

A few men with cigarettes and cigars created a thickness in the air that cut through her nose when they came close to the table, sitting across from them. Alex fidgeted nervously, unable to conceal her fear in the anticipation of their meeting. Her breath rising and falling fast against the tight fabric of her dress.

The Joker cleared his throat before speaking.

“Where’s the man in question this evening, gentlemen?” He said.

Maroni held a smug look on his face.

“Dead.” He said flatly, pausing, allowing the statement to sink in.

To her surprise, the Joker nodded in an approving manner.

“Well, that takes care of your problems, doesn’t it?” He shrugged.

Her mind was spinning. He wouldn’t have any use for her anymore. What would he do to her? Her breaths became shallow, hurried. How could these people just kill one of their own so easily? She tried not to show the horror on her face but she couldn’t, judging from the look on Jordan’s face. He was smiling at her, taking pleasure from her fear.

“You don’t need her, right?” Jordan was looking at the Joker across the table now, ready to make another strike against her.

“What do you mean?” He replied.

“You don’t need her to blackmail us anymore? Right?” He pressed further. Her arms were trembling now, unable to hold in her horror. He remained calm next to her, tilting his head to the side like he was weighing his options.

“No, but I think I’ll hang onto her a little longer if you don’t mind.” He laughed, stretching his arm over her shoulder, scooting closer to her seat. Alex didn’t move, trying to remain stoic.

“I heard you two used to be an item, correct?” He asked, pointing at Jordan and then Alex. She turned slightly towards the Joker, watching in terror as he sat back and laughed at the surprise on both their faces. Jordan sat up a little straighter in his seat, challenging him.

“Yeah, actually,” Jordan chuckled.

“I’m married though, been with my wife for almost ten years,” he continued.

“But I used to fuck her on the side though, nothing serious,” he shrugged. He looked like he was going to say something to respond but Jordan kept going.

“It was for money at first, did she tell you that?” He egged on. 

“Held onto her for quite a while, but I mean look at her, you know,” he grinned at Alex. Her mind was frazzled, she didn’t think she could get a single coherent thought together, let alone words. 

The Joker rubbed her shoulder softly, his arm still draped around her. He turned his head as if to inspect her, his eyes grazing her up and down. It felt like he could see her turned inside out, everything exposed for him to sift through.

“Impressive,” he said softly. It seemed like a comment meant only for her.

Jordan laughed even more across the table, sitting back in his seat, satisfied.

“You took advantage of a child,” the Joker said, turning his attention back to Jordan who was looking at the two of them with amusement.

“Then you took her for yourself when she turned eighteen, hmm?”

“What a conquest.”

He allowed his words to hang in the silence of the room for a few moments before getting up to leave. 

“Well, I don’t think we have any foreseeable business,” he said, reaching down, holding out a hand for Alex to take. She took it without thinking.

“We’ll give you what you want if you let her go,” Jordan called from across the table.

“Just let her go free, she doesn’t have to be involved in any of this,” he continued. Alex was already standing up, the weight of someone else's arm beginning to draw her closer.  
He felt comforting, his presence next to hers as her heart hammered in her ribcage. He looked down at her, his frame and height surrounding her, a barrier between her and the men across the table.

“You wanna leave?” He asked, taking his arm away from her body, letting her have space if she were to walk away.

She gazed up at him, noting how delicate lines etched their way on the creases of his eyelids. It was surreal, having the attention of the room on her. Her body was trembling.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice only audible to him.

“Let’s get out of here,” her hand squeezed his and he led her out the door, the sound of Jordan’s voice muffled as he yelled at her leaving with him. He hurried to the car with her trailing behind him, still holding onto his hand.

As he sped away, she watched the way his hand held onto the stick shift, the stitching in the leather curving over his knuckles tensing. She wanted to reach over, her fingertips tracing over his hand as he rested in gear, coasting down the street. Her stomach dropped when he turned to look at her, the streetlights illuminating his eyes meeting hers.

“Where are we going?” she asked, shifting nervously in her seat.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his face in darkness now as he turned the corner down an ally, away from the brightness of the city. 

“I-I want to tell you that,” she began, her words flustered. For once he didn’t talk over her. 

“You didn’t have to say all that back there,” she exhaled, the road stretching out into a long, narrow path ahead of them. The buildings on the sides of the road walled around them. He kept his focus on the narrow line of pavement in front of them, shifting into a lower gear to slow down. She couldn’t read his expression when they pulled up to a small parking area, the adjacent door part of a building towering above them.

“Wait here,” he said, the emergency brake creaking as he pulled up the lever.

“Ok,” she was still, not daring to undo her seatbelt.

He left her, locking her in the car before making his way around the front end of the building, out of her sight. She was left with the disquieting absence of him, her ears ringing with how silent it was in the car. When he came back he opened the door for her on the passenger side. 

“C’mere, sweetheart, let’s go somewhere nice, what do you say, hmm?” He had a wiry glint in his eyes when she stood up next to him. His proximity suffocated her, the way he ushered her to the back door like everything was his doing. 

He took her to another hotel suite, just as luxurious as the last. This one had a balcony, the city in a sweeping vision outside the glass doors. He clicked the lock in the door behind them, the ornate moldings around the frame matching the long, heavy drapes on the sides of the window. The carpet was plush beneath her as she tiptoed out to the balcony, running her hands against the railing that enclosed her from the dizzying height stretching down to the city street.

“Well, what do you think?” he crept up behind her.

“It’s nice, but, um, how do you even afford these-?”

“Shhhhh, sweetheart, don’t worry, it’s all been taken care of,” he said, patting her on the head like she was a child.

His touch was becoming more comforting to her. She began to wonder if she was wrong about the whole evening. He hadn’t forced her into a dangerous situation, he had been her protector, right? 

It was a cool night, she could almost see his breath in the faint lights behind them, the air sending the hairs on her arm to stand up straight. She had been craving closeness with someone for a while now, cut off from anyone else who could possibly help her. But that wasn’t his fault. She dared to step closer to him.

“I-I, just want…” her words trailed off. The constant weariness weighing on her mind. After tonight it was hard to even think straight.

“Hmmm?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

She didn’t speak, taking his hand in both of hers, she brought it to her face so that his fingers cupped her jawline and cheek. Taking both her hands away, he kept his hand resting on her face, his thumb barely stroking the high point in her cheekbone. Heat rose to the surface of her skin, feeling embarrassed and flustered all at once as she realized the implications of her actions. 

“Alex?”

She bit her lower lip, her heart was pounding even through exhaustion. Slowly, she knelt her head, resting it against his chest. Unable to hold back tears any longer, she took deep breaths, letting out choked cries, unraveling in front of him, surprised when he circled his arms around her, enfolding her in an embrace, his fingers rubbing small circles around her back.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he whispered, his chest radiating warmth. Release swept through her body as she breathed in and out, her forehead locked against the smooth fabric of his vest. She had been holding in her loneliness and grief for her old life, her shame of what had happened. It had all been amplified seeing Jordan again this evening. Despite this, he was the one person who had stood up for her, not even her friends had said anything to Jordan after they had broken up. Their whole relationship had left her nearly completely alone. But she had him this time, for better or for worse.

“I just want you, right now, ok” she mumbled into his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, it's been a minute. I apologize for the lack of editing in this chapter as my mental health has not been the best this past month and revising seems monumental at this moment in time. With that said I would also like to give some credit to the screenplay for Ari Aster's movie Midsommar. I love the quote, "You are very vulnerable, though. And I mean that in a great way. It's very rare. It's beautiful." I wanted to incorporate my own take on it in this chapter with vulnerability being a growing theme in my writing. Also, if it isn't obvious by now, I have used a couple of scenes from the movie Pretty Woman and put my own twist on it. I think the Joker (in The Dark Knight) is the antithesis of Richard Gere's character and I like seeing the contrast of both of them when put in similar situations. I am intrigued by the ideas of capitalism and wealth and how they play out with a character like the Joker, who seems to totally reject any sense of order as it always has a way of protecting some people while keeping others oppressed.

They stayed out on the balcony for a while. It was hard to stop crying once she started, everything bubbling up and spilling over at once. The night was unseasonably chilly. Her arms and legs were now covered in goosebumps, her core feeling the cold too, shivering, shaking throughout her whole frame. He was there with her, but only in the physical sense, his arms tightening around her while her mind was sprawled out, frayed at the ends. She could hear herself choking out soft cries, unable to hold back anymore. 

After a while, it was tiring, the trembling and exertion on her body. Fatigue finally washed over. She pulled away from him, wiping the mess of tears and makeup that was no doubt streaked all over her face. 

“I-I’m s-so,” she stuttered.

“Shhhhh,” he shook his head, already knowing what she would say.

“Come on, even I’m cold out here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her inside.  
She usually scurried away from him as soon as they got back from the previous times he had dragged her with him somewhere. But now she craved his closeness, following him down the hallway into an unfamiliar set of rooms, afraid to leave his side, fearing she might fall apart again, alone. He reached back to her, gently ushering her into a bathroom. She was confused as he took a washcloth, lathering it with water and one of the hotel’s soaps.

“Wh-what a-are?”She stammered.

He brought the washcloth closer in one hand, taking the back of her head in another hand, his fingers spread out on the back of her scalp. Bringing the washcloth to her face, he washed the makeup off her, holding her steadily. She stood still, allowing him to wash her face, his hand moving in smooth strokes, the warm water easing across her face. It didn’t really feel like she could do anything else at this point. He was extra careful when he got to the area of skin around her eyes, cautious not to cause pull or strain on the delicate skin.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured and she did as she was told. He dabbed the fabric gently around her closed eyelids, working slowly. He tipped her chin back slightly to give him better access to see the progress he had made on removing her eyeliner and mascara. He relinquished his hold on her head when he was done, her eyes opening slowly, feeling a bit of a sting from the soap and water that clung to her waterline.

“Hang on one minute.” He left with the washcloth still in hand. When he returned he held the washcloth like it was concealing something. Her heartbeat ticked up a bit in suspicion. 

“Here,” he took one of her hands, bringing it to the washcloth so that she was holding it against her face. Instead of the familiar warm sensation she had gotten used to, it was suddenly freezing. She realized that he must have put ice inside of the washcloth, making it into a cold compress. It burned on her face, especially as she had realized he had placed it on her upper cheeks, against her sinuses. But it gave her a jolt of awareness, bringing some of her sense back.

“Hold onto that.” 

He left to grab towels before taking her arm that still had the sutures embedded by her shoulder. Guiding her arm down so that it was straightened out, extended towards him, he began to gently dab the area around her stitches. She watched him work, completely engaged with his movements, with his touch, it felt as if it was all that was grounding her now. When he was done, he brought her a clean towel alongside the baggy t-shirt and pants she had been wearing to bed frequently.

“When you shower, make sure to keep your arm out of the water as much as possible,” he said. She nodded in response. He left her alone in the bathroom. When she started the shower, the sound of the water comforted her, the sound of the water hitting the tiled floor filling the emptiness of being by herself. 

…….

He finally had some space to himself, sitting in the living alone, the sound of the shower running a few doors down reminding him of the constant presence of her, Alex. She was getting awfully clinging after this evening, the mixture of shock, embarrassment, remorse, pain, he could see it was all getting to her. His hands flipped restlessly through his book, deciding that tonight would be best spent reading instead of his planning. It was so late, he would only get a few hours of quiet once she fell asleep.

The sound of the water running stopped abruptly as he listened to her footsteps coming out, shuffling for a few moments, the fan still running in the bathroom. She flipped it off before opening the door, her footsteps trailing further down the hallway. He could tell that she wanted to be afraid of him by the way she had tried to distance herself from him, staying in rooms that were as far away from him as possible and he let her. The door of one of the bedrooms clicked closed. Good, she was done for the night. 

Minutes passed, ticking by, closer and closer to the early hours of the morning. He was feeling tired himself but wanted to resist the urge to sleep, holding on to the moments, without the pressure of the waking world. A creak from the door pulled him out of his reading and then she was standing in front of him, the blanket from the room wrapped around her shoulders, her t-shirt hanging halfway down her bare thighs, hair still wet from the shower in disarray on her head and around her cheeks. 

He loved looking at her. The way her face would tense when she was nervous, how she held onto everything that her hands could wrap around, veins in her wrist and fingers tightening, intertwining with the blanket that she was so desperately clinging to. It was so hard, burdensome even, to hold his gaze away from her now, the soft curve of her hips, dimly lit in the yellow light of the lamp behind them. She was attractive in the conventional sense, sure, but it wasn’t like those things mattered to him, or every man for that matter. But he was drawn into her more after tonight, he couldn’t hide from that any longer, couldn’t try to repress. 

She had kissed him. And he liked it. Not because he desired it, she would never be able to seduce him away from his intentions, no. But he was betwixt by the way she had tried to manipulate him, it almost made him chuckle, even now. Her attempt paled in comparison to the constant tension he had cultivated between them. But it was so impulsive and desperate, he had to be impressed at her nerve, her brashness. He could see that she had come from an environment where she had been forced to use her sexuality as a tool. The way she had pushed herself up against him, steadily holding his head as she kissed him confidently, it was something she’d done before. 

He was piecing it together, her past relationship with Jordan. He used her, and she let him, holding onto him as if he would save her. She had been naive, fragile, and he took advantage of it mercilessly. He saw the way she was shocked by revealing that he paid her for sex at the beginning of their relationship, something that she had kept even from him. He didn’t blame her, hiding the details in shame. It was something she probably hid from herself, suppressed.

She talked in her sleep sometimes, whimpering helplessly in the dark of her room. It was different from the times she had cried, trying to hold back tears in front of him, her chest trembling through each breath. 

Her eyes were locked on his face now, widened yet unyielding, her shoulders hunched in, fearful, yet she inched closer and closer to his spot on the couch. She had nowhere left to turn to, nowhere to run, but to him. She was so vulnerable— it was beautiful.   
“What’s a matter, can't sleep?” He asked finally, breaking the hesitation between them.

Her lips were pursed like she was struggling to get her words out. He waited patiently, wanting to know what she could possibly need more from him after everything. 

“I-I... can I stay out here for tonight?” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. She was like a child asking for help, too ashamed to admit her own fragility, as if it wasn’t all so incredibly obvious. 

He shrugged in response, trying not to seem too overly eager to have her by his side. 

“Sure, sweetheart.”

She nodded back at him, going to another couch across from where he was sitting, throwing off the side pillows before easing down onto it. She held her body in a curled up position as she lay, the blanket now hugging her body. He turned back to his book after she had settled. 

He could see her staring at him out of his peripheral vision as he turned through his pages, pretending to be invested in the ink and paper in his lap. 

“Does the light bother you?” He asked after a few moments had passed. 

“Um, it doesn’t really, I mean if you could turn it off that’d be fine too, but it’s not like you have to,” she said, pulling the covers further up her chest.

“Ok.”

He flipped the switch on the lamp off, the darkness immediately enshrouding the two of them. The only lights now were from the windows, dotted in the buildings outside, outlining the cityscape around them, mixed with the pale milky white moonlight reflecting on the kitchen countertops. It wasn’t enough to see her face, her body still angled towards him on the sofa. 

“A-are you going to go to bed now,” she asked nervously.

He sat in the silence between them instead of responding. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the outline of her on the sofa. She seemed different in the dark, more at ease. He wondered if it was because she couldn’t see him, not just his scars, but the way he portrayed himself to everyone, to her. With the lights out, she wasn’t reminded of him, everything he had done in front of her, to her. 

“Not yet.”

The two of them were quiet again, him sitting on the chair across from her, gazing out across the windows and balcony into the night. She was completely still on the couch, not comfortable enough to make a movement. He wondered what she wanted from him, choosing to be near him. Probably just company, a feeling of security after what had happened. But he couldn’t deny the thought at the back of his mind, that she wanted more of him. She had admitted it when they were outside together. 

He would never give into her, he knew that completely resolved to his own will and there was no changing that. But the possibility of uncertainty, the way she had given up all defenses against him—it was hard to deny the appeal. A part of him wanted to submit, give into selfishness. He wondered how far it would go, with her.

But he would never give in.

He closed his eyes, waiting, sitting in his place across from her. Eventually, he heard her breathing rhythmically, her body motionless on the sofa, indicating that she had fallen asleep. Exhaustion came over him in waves, pulling him into unconsciousness. He slept longer than he had in months. 

…

She was suspicious of the way he was nice to her. He watched her the whole day, letting her take any luxury she wanted, room service, gifts as if he was doing the best he could for her. But she let him, taking in everything, acting grateful. Last night had confirmed one thing, the death of the man who had assaulted her. It left her numb, the feeling of relief evaded her. She couldn’t count on the Joker to use her as part of his blackmail scheme into the mob; she was useless to him. 

She sat out on the balcony in the afternoon, the sunlight whitewashed against the haze. It was still pleasant. The view in the daytime had been even better as she could see the Northern half of the city, the financial district. She saw hordes of cars and people below, rushing to their jobs, breezing through to-do lists of errands, even taking leisurely breaks on the steps by the sidewalks. She imagined being one of them, working a steady job, with a good income, normal hours, independence. She envied them. It was her own fault for where she had landed in life, used by others instead of taking accountability for herself. It hurt, but she didn’t know that she even deserved pity.

It wasn’t like she had any other options though. She was a high school graduate with no other education, no marketable skills, no ambition. There was nothing she would contribute in a real job, she’d just be a joke. Besides, it wasn’t like she had ever been actually good at anything. Except for leeching off of other people’s money.

She let out a frustrated huff. 

Well, there were her friends. She was sure at least a few of them actually cared about her. Thinking back to their conversations, she remembered how her roommate, one of the few close people in her life, had been when her family left her, disowned her. She sat across from Alex in the living room, sunken into one of the chairs, silent, after she heard the news.

Alex went over to her side, kneeling down at the chair. 

They both sat quietly.

“we’re together in this, don’t worry,” Alex said finally.

The sound of a jet overhead pulled her out of her daydream.

Maybe she hadn’t been terrible at everything after all. 

Still holding the pages of her book open, she stretched out her legs straight, lifting her calves, the sun warming the skin on her shins. She stood up to go, her limbs sluggish in the heat. She arched back her shoulders, raising her hands as she stretched a little more. He was watching her inside, his eyes locked on her body when she turned around to look back into the hotel room. His gaze held straight, giving her a faint smirk as she looked back at him, rolling her neck to the side. He wasn’t the type of guy to look away.

The afternoon rolled into sunset. He suggested they order something fancy for dinner. It made her nervous like he was suggesting a last meal, spoiling her before the execution. She found it hard to eat anything at this point anyway, the stress of constant fear and sadness weighing heavily on her, muscles always clenched. All she wanted to do anymore was sleep, give in to the feeling of surrender where she didn’t have to worry anymore. 

“You want to get drinks, darling?” He asked, watching her pick at her food at the far end of the table.

“Why, it’s not like you drink?” 

It was true, she had never seen him take any sort of alcoholic beverage at any of their previous outings, nor when they were alone together.

“Yeah, but you do, right?” 

She looked down in shame, remembering their first interactions, the incoherent mess she must have been in his eyes, the way she couldn’t even save herself. She must seem so unbelievably weak to him. 

On the other hand, she couldn’t say no. Alcohol had a way of relieving tension, evaporating problems in the warmth of a few sips, rising and washing over like a wave of euphoria. She tried not to drink all the time so the feeling would never get old. It never did.

She shrugged in response. A few drinks wouldn’t be the end of the world.

He told her she could order anything she wanted off the menu as she picked up the phone and asked for more room service. She decided on a nice bottle of champagne. She wanted to seem classy, but wine on its own wasn’t her favorite. The carbonation of the champagne made it feel a little bit easier on her palette.

There was a knock at the door soon after with the same hotel employee that had brought them up their other room service orders. Alex couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of her, blowing all this money in one day. 

She walked back to the living area with the bucket of ice and the bottle inside, along with two champagne flutes.

Sitting down from the couch across from him, she took the items, making two drinks, both of them for herself.

“Cheers,” she said sarcastically, holding up one of the glasses for herself. He sat with a book resting on his legs but wasn’t reading it, only watching her now, looking like he was totally enthralled with her antics.

She shot the first glass, drinking all of it in one go as if it were cheap liquor that she was carelessly throwing down her throat. It didn’t burn though, the carbonation leaving a tingly feeling in her mouth, the liquid warming her chest and stomach as it slipped down her system. 

Everything was looking much better already.

She sipped on the other glass, staring at the Joker across from her, trying her best to give a devious smile and wink at him, the way he did to her. It was against everything that she should be doing. This man had done horrible things in front of her, terrorized her, she hadn’t let her guard down in front of him, until last night. He had broken her, made her be vulnerable, and he knew it. 

She raised her eyebrows at him, his gaze still on her. He cocked his head to the side a bit, amused.

“Am I doing it right, hmm?” 

He chuckled. She sipped her glass some more, the champagne getting closer and closer to the bottom.

“No, sweetheart.” 

She sat up straighter, scoffing. 

“Oh, really, it doesn’t have the same effect if I do it?”

She giggled, pouring herself another glass. 

“Maybe you should take it a bit slower there, sweetheart?” He continued. “How much was that one bottle anyway?”

“Oh this,” she responded, holding up the receipt.

“Two-hundred and fifty dollars, zero cents,” she read, proud of herself, pointing at the number.

“My, my, not bad for one bottle I guess.” He said, looking down, a bit disinterested now.

“Hey, it’s not like you would know,” she negged. “You don't even go near alcohol.”

“You got me,” he said, his eyes cast down on his book.

She sipped the third glass quietly, watching the sun go down out the window, casting long shadows on the skyline. She loved how the pinks, purples and reds got more and more vibrant as the sun sank lower. It was getting a bit dark in the hotel room. She got up and turned the lamp on that was near him as if to help him see the book better.

An idea crept up in her mind suddenly. She almost giggled, taken aback at her own nerve. She went back to the couch she had sat on, pouring a fourth glass and making her way over to his spot. She sat down next to him, looking over at his book as if she were trying to read too. 

“What are you even reading, hmmm?” she asked. 

He breathed out a bit. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or sighing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I just wanna know what’s got you all worked up, you know?” She giggled. “Like what could possibly have your attention that’s more interesting than me?” 

She couldn’t hold her laughter back.

He looked at her quizzically. For the first time since they had been together, he seemed genuinely surprised. 

“It’s Greene,” he flipped the book to reveal the cover. It was the novel, The Power and The Glory. 

“Read it to me,” she said, feeling the heat rise on her cheeks as she smiled back at him.

He shrugged. She wondered if he was playing cool for now, he seemed unusually calm. Not that he wasn’t collected all of the time, but it was as if he was especially forcing it now. Like he was doing more than just the constant facade of having total control all the time.

He began reading, not starting at any particular place that would have made sense, just starting at the sentence he had left off. She leaned back into the pillow next to him, her head resting sideways.

She finished her fourth glass, going up to get another as he read, not bothering to stop him. The effects of the alcohol were beginning to get to her as she stood up, feeling a bit dizzy on her feet. 

“You suuure you don’t want any,” she said, interrupting his reading. She could hear the slur in her voice now, but she didn’t care. 

He smiled back at her. 

“You sure you can handle another glass, darling?” He smiled, his eyes glinting like he was enjoying watching her stumble back to him.

“Uh, yeah,” she held up her glass, waving it back and forth slightly, noticing she spilled a bit.

“Oh, fuck,” she licked the side of the champagne flute to catch some of the liquid that had escaped down the side. 

His eyes widened as he watched her like he was shocked at her behavior. She knew he wasn’t, he was probably enjoying every minute of it, it excited her. Holding his attention, having a bit of power over him. She dared to inch closer to him on the sofa, giggling.

His eyes scanned her face, studying her features.

“You just think you’re soooo, smart, I bet,” She giggled more.

“You and all of Gotham’s criminals, thinking you run everything like you’re better than everyone else.” She pretended to roll her eyes

“Got me all figured out, huh?” His eyebrows raised a bit more, skeptical of her accusation.

“What’s your plan anyway huh?”She chugged the remaining liquid in her glass before continuing. It was fun, prodding him this way, but even through the haze of the alcohol, the sense of danger still remained. She could potentially be asking him about her fate, how she was involved in his schemes, how she would be dealt with in the end.

“You’re like infiltrating the mob or whatever, right?” she continued. “What’s that all about?”

He shrugged like he couldn’t give her an answer.

“What do you think?” He asked, deflecting the question.

She set her glass down, balancing herself next to him on the sofa. She pointed at him, giggling a bit more, squinting one eye like she was a detective and he was the inquiry.

“You don’t do it for the money, hmmm,” she said, the warmth in her chest feeling as if it were going to bubble over. She was pretty sure she was right. He had this almost pompous sense of altruism, the way he walked around like he always had the upper hand like he wasn’t tied down by the lust of money or power.

“You think?” He questioned.

“Mmhmmm,” she hummed. “It’s like soooo obvious.”

“Really?” he tilted his head a bit. 

“Duuh,” she rested her head back, pleased that he now seemed genuinely curious.

“This is about something bigger, right?” she rested her head on the back of the couch, aware of how close her body was to his. It was daring to come at him like this, but there was a sense that it didn’t matter what she did.

“What makes you think that?” he pressed further. It wasn’t like she expected him to reveal anything.

“The way you treat me,” she giggled a little more, it made her uncomfortable to admit.

“You don’t use me, like, in a way that other guys have.” Her cheeks were getting warm again, she could only imagine how flushed she was, with the alcohol and the hint of embarrassment.

“Really,” he responded.

“Yup,” she said, over-enunciating the “p” at the end, an awkward silence settling between them.

She decided this would be a great time to get another drink, the bottle was well over half empty at this point, finishing it off now would be the only reasonable thing to do, there would only be a little left if she wanted to drink more some other time. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, sweetheart,” he said as she got up, going back to the bottle across from them.

“Yeaaahh, why do you care?”

“I don’t need you getting sick a second time, remember?” She was careful to turn back around, standing in front of him. Now she was standing over him.

“Reeaally?” she asked.

Suddenly, his hand was around her wrist, pulling her towards him, causing her to nearly fall forward.

“Do I need to remind you of when we first met?” His tone had gone cold. Everything inside her told her to back down, stop asking questions, but the champagne had gone to her head, throwing out her better judgment. Besides, what was the worst thing he could do to her?  
“Um, yeah, you were at my, uh...place of work,” she flipped her hair, pretending to be flirtatious.

“Come on, just stop this whole front, you always try to play it safe with me, keeping me in the dark with everything.” She whined, pulling her wrist out of his grip. She made sure to pull with the most pressure where his thumb and middle finger met, the weakest point in his grasp. 

It worked. She stumbled backward, out of his hold, falling onto the carpet.

“Don’t test me, Alex.” He said, tersely. 

“Come oooon, you got me, a stripper, in your hotel room?” she giggled uncontrollably now.

“Tell me what that’s all about, man?” She was on her hands and knees scooting back over to where he was. Her position made it so she was kneeling below where he sat. She was very aware of how things looked.

“You know I’m not that kinda guy,” he said. The expression on his face was one of annoyance, maybe even pity.

“Yeah, I know, you’re like a saint, a white knight, except not really,” her voice was trailing off, the drinks weighing on her body, dragging her down. She rested her head on his lap, any shame she should have felt rolling off her shoulders.

“That’s why you go after people like Maroni, and you won’t even look at people like me.”

Her eyes were shut, the room rocking back and forwards, putting her to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy ;)  
> Happy Halloween.

She breathed in sharply when the grey morning light filtered through her half-opened eyelids, pain throbbing through her temples before she had even fully woken up. Fluttering her eyes open, she could see that she was still in the hotel living room, on the couch for the second night in a row. It took a moment for her to adjust to the starkness, the sky shrouded in clouds, some darkened at the bottom. The haze from yesterday had thickened, making the air even more humid. 

Alex rolled off the couch and onto her feet, her stomach churning a bit, but feeling otherwise ok. She went down to the bathroom to wash her face and shower, the water hitting her skin, soothing the effects of her hangover. When she got out, changing into a new pair of plain pants and a white shirt, her wet hair dripping onto the thin fabric, making it essentially see-through. It gave her a hint of unease before she realized that she was completely alone in the hotel. There was no sign of him when she had paced through the main corridor, the balcony abandoned as well.

She poured a glass of water in the kitchen soaking in the moment to herself. It didn’t last. He came storming through the door in his full signature makeup. He had a man trailing behind him and she immediately put her arms over her chest, feeling self-conscious about her wet t-shirt, especially since she had nothing on underneath. She didn’t really care anymore if the Joker saw her, he had seen enough of her the first night they had met and he didn’t exactly seem like he cared too much. A stranger, on the other hand, made for a completely different situation.

The Joker didn’t so much as acknowledge her before looking to the other man.

“Go ahead and grab her,” he said.

“Wait, what?” she squeaked, her voice barely audible. The man’s hands were around her wrists almost immediately, tying them together, then over her mouth, his fingers wrapped around her jaw, pressing into her cheeks. It hurt more than she expected.

“We’re gonna play the silent game, ok?” he whispered, the heat of his mouth on her ears, his breath smelling of black coffee. He squeezed her wrists together behind her back in one hand, securing a zip tie around them, the plastic digging into her skin.

It was startling how fast everything happened as he dragged her, following the Joker’s footsteps, leading down the employee elevator and parking lot. The man kept a steady hold on her abdomen and mouth, never letting her get a centimeter out of his grasp. It’s not like she resisted anyway. Though the ordeal was startling, she wasn’t scared, knowing that maintaining her closeness to the Joker was probably the best way to ensure her survival, at least for the time being.

They made it to a van parked behind the dumpster and alleyway, hidden from the view of any hotel customers. 

“You’re sitting with me,” the man behind her growled, throwing her into the backseat, the Joker taking the wheel.

He started the engine, backing out and accelerating rapidly out of the alley, taking a sharp turn onto the road. She could feel the van lurch dangerously to the side as they pulled around the corner, he was driving faster than she had ever seen. 

“Gotta name?” the man asked. His hand moved down just enough for her to open her mouth, but it still circled the bottom of her jaw, like he was ready to stifle her from screaming. 

The two of them were glued together in one seat. She was struggling to hold herself up on the bit of the seat that he didn’t occupy, nervous of slipping out of his grasp. It gave her a clear view of his arms, looking at how his tattoos rippled with the pulse of his muscles.

“Ummm, yeah,” she replied, fixated even more on the designs. He had one of a hooded skeleton sitting on a throne. There were designs of crows, and vines around it, they were drawn together, vertically around his bicep. 

“You gonna tell us what it is?” his hand tightened around her face. She found herself holding back tears. 

She sucked in her breath, it was frustrating to be held like this when he was right there, in front of them. His reasons for treating her like this were beyond her understanding. 

“What do you want it to be?” she asked, craning her neck back away from him so she could have a better look at his face. She knotted her brows together, glaring at him with her head held at a slanted angle.

He didn’t hesitate, slapping her across the face, the tops of her cheeks and nose instantly red-hot with pain. His other hand was around her neck now, his thumb pressing down on where her trachea was exposed in the muscles of her throat. He only put enough pressure to make her cough, not quite choking her yet.

“You wanna try that one more time?” He whispered, flecks of saliva hitting her ear, his mouth too close.

“It’s Alex,” she croaked, struggling against his fingers that were still tightening around her skin.

“That’s what I thought, Alex.”

His fingers released their grip around her neck as she took a deep unrestrained breath, holding onto the moment of freedom. It was cut short when he took the back of her head into his hand this time, shoving it down, forcing her to lean over uncomfortably, her back and shoulders straining.

“Don’t fuck around with me, understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, as he pulled her upper body back up in the seat next to him. She was in shock that the Joker was allowing this man to hurt her physically like this. Maybe it was part of something he had planned. Maybe it was another way to use her.

She looked to the rearview mirror, trying to meet his eyes in the reflection. He didn’t look back once.

He drove the van towards the industrial district of the city, rumbling over a pair of train tracks while trailers and warehouses dotted the horizon. The port of the city gleamed in the distance while the blue, gray water of the harbor peaked through the buildings. 

The Joker slowed down when they made it to an open lot, coasting down to an old manufacturing mill that was near the edge of the gates that surrounded the cargo ships and trailers. He parked adjacent to the building, getting out while Alex and the man were still glued together in the backseat. 

He opened the door and she was pushed out almost immediately. She yelped in pain as her shoulders and chest hit the concrete, forming scrapes on her face and neck. Struggling to get to her feet, she shifted her weight to the side, bending one leg so she could pull her body up to where she was kneeling. It was difficult to move with her arms still tied behind her back. 

The man was behind her, grabbing her arms now so she couldn’t move forward. He lifted her wrist up, forcing her to stand in front of him. The Joker was looking at the two of them together, his head tilted to the side like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

“Are you trying to let her get away, hmmm?” He mused, coming closer to both of them.

“What? It’s not like she would have gotten far or anything,” the man challenged. The Joker took one step closer, they were similar in height, but definitely not in build. 

“Are you questioning me?” He asked, his voice taunting the man, the same way he had jeered at her in the beginning. It was strange, seeing him like this with someone else.

“I get it, but it’s not like-”

“Let’s make sure we follow what I say next time, ok?” The Joker interrupted. 

“Fine,” the man muttered.

He was already starting to walk into the building, prompting the man to follow behind him, still dragging Alex by the arm. They entered what she could only imagine was a textile mill before the latter half of the twentieth century. They walked through rooms filled with empty columns and looms that had once been wrapped with thread and fabric. It was decrepit and rusted now, a symbol of the decay of the old US economy. She could smell the rot of the wood, hear the way it creaked beneath their footsteps like it could snap at any moment.

They made their way down another corridor, leading to the main office. There was a stain on the floor where a desk used to sit. Four squares marking where it must have sat for years.

The Joker leaned against the windowsill while the man yanked Alex by the wrist pulling her closer to him. She almost stumbled into his lap. He sat with his knees apart, bent slightly like he was completely relaxed. Her eyes moved up and down his body; he looked away. She noticed he didn’t have his shoulders hunched like the way he carried himself around large groups of people like the mob. It made him scarier somehow.

“She’s awfully quiet isn’t she?” the man joked. She realized that he hadn’t held his hand over her mouth the entire time since they had left the van.

“She’s gonna have to be quiet for a little bit longer,” he said, pulling out a gun from his pocket, checking the safety settings before handing it to the man. He pointed towards a closet in the far corner of the room.

“You two wait in there until I say.”

They made their way over to the closet door, the man leading her into the enclosed space with his hand between her shoulder blades. He got in behind her, the two of them cramped together what used to be a small coat closet. Alex felt the cold, metallic muzzle of the gun against her head.

“Quiet for a little longer, deal?” The man asked.

Alex nodded carefully.

The Joker crept up to both of them, the closet door in his hand.

“No funny business, right?” he looked at the man. He must have nodded because his attention turned to Alex. 

He put his index finger on her lips, the glove feeling strangely soft and familiar.

“Shhhh,” he taunted. He winked at her and shut the door.

Her chest burned with frustration. How could he be so brash to leave her with a complete stranger? Not only that, someone who had hurt her. She wasn’t completely surprised, though, given his track record.

But another part of her sensed they had passed his threats and bargains. There was something about her that he liked, or was attracted to. Maybe he pitied her. It was unsettling.

She could hear voices outside the door. He was talking to someone else, his high pitched voice mixed with another man. The new voice seemed softer, more submissive than the burly man behind her now. She could only understand a few fragments.

“You’ll get a good portion of the cut, trust me,” the Joker said. She could have laughed. 

“I just need you for this.” He continued.

“Ok,” the other man mumbled.

They were silent for a while. He must have been showing him something, laying out future plans. The man behind her stayed deathly still the whole time, the confined space creating heat between them. He was sweating, she could feel the moisture on his hands as he kept a hold on her wrist. There were a couple of exchanges and then more silence. It was as if the other man was gone for good.

The door opened suddenly, the light hurt her eyes after being in the dark for so long.

He pushed her out, more gently this time. The air on the outside felt welcome now as she took in deep, grateful breaths.

“Give me the gun,” the Joker said, flatly.

The man did as he was told, handing his weapon over. 

“Good.”

“You understand, right?” the Joker continued, meeting the man’s gaze.

He nodded hesitantly.

“That guy,” he said, pointing down the hallway where the other man had presumably left.

“You do a good job and you get his share,” the Joker finished.

The man nodded, a deep chuckle rose out of his chest. 

“Yeah, I fucking get it, you don’t have to tell me twice.” He kept laughing. Alex realized it was because he was relieved. The man was given the confidence of the Joker’s word. He knew something another didn’t; he was given the upper hand. The burly man was given permission to kill the other in exchange for his ‘share’, whatever that meant. She could see the way he was playing him to earn his loyalty. 

It made her wonder how he played her.

“You can give her back to me now,” the Joker said, the corners of his mouth creeping up.

“She’s all yours.” The man pushed her forward a little bit, causing her to stumble into the space between the man and the Joker. He took her by the arm swiftly, the leather on his gloves running down to her wrists where he held her. His grasp was noticeably lessened, gentle in comparison to what she had just experienced.

“Take the van to the second location at the end of the day,” the Joker said. The man left, his footsteps echoing down the halls until the slight creak and shut of the door let them know that he was gone. 

“Well, well, it’s just the two of us, my dear.”

He reached out a hand to her face, etching across her cheek where she had been hurt. She couldn’t deny how good it felt. Especially knowing that she was closer to him than the men working for him. Possibly closer to him than anyone. The sky was getting darker outside as more clouds had rolled in. It looked like it could start pouring at any moment. The wind was rattling the rickety window pane.

Her mind wandered while his hands ran down her neck and shoulder that had a few scabs from the ground.

“Aww, sweetheart, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” he cooed. The way he said it made her angry again. He was playing her, the way he had played the other men.

“Bullshit,” she spat. 

“I see what you’re doing,” she continued before he could get a word out.

“I know, I know,” he put his hands up in defense. 

“But, hey, isn’t that what you wanted?” He pressed.

“What?”

“To see what I do, right?”

He was smiling, his hands still on her shoulders. His thumb stroking one of the bruises that had formed. Another step forward and he had halved the space between them. She had been close to him before, but not like this. His energy was different now, manic.

“And what am I doing then?” she asked, looking up at his eyes. He was looking down at her, almost hungrily. 

“You trust me, right?” he murmured.

“No.”

One of his hands slid up to her jawline, his fingers cradling her face delicately. She had already let him touch her like this, but it was different, now. Not entirely unwelcome.

His other hand moved to her waist, gently pulling her forwards, collapsing the remaining distance between them. His touch was strategic, letting her move away if she wanted.

But she couldn’t back down now.

The resentment burned into the pit of her stomach like a furnace. But she also felt something else. 

She watched him carefully as he slowly bent down to her level. His lids were heavy as he looked at her mouth, before inching even closer to her face. He kissed her, softly at first. Her lips immediately parted, giving into him. He deepened the kiss in response, clutching at her waist harder as she felt herself softly sigh, a sound of relief coming from the back of her throat. He was encouraged by her complacency, pushing her backward until she was up against the windowsill behind them. He was all around her now, his whole body hunched over, swallowing her whole.

He pulled away from her lips, his mouth trailing down her cheek and she arched her head back, letting him have better access as he kissed her neck, her vision blurring at the sensation of his mouth against her skin. He pressed himself against her as he shifted to the other side, one hand trailing up her stomach.

“Please,” she whispered. 

Her whole body was weak, her knees nearly collapsing under sheer headrush. He moved from her neck to her collarbone. It was almost too much. Her shoulders were sore after the hours spent cuffed together. She wished they were free, so she could run her hands over his face, feeling his scars up close. But he had all the power now.

Without warning, he pulled away swiftly, her lips still hurting. She took a deep breath before she realized she was gasping for breath, her chest pounding. He grinned maliciously. Reaching out once more, he placed a hand on her chest, over her sternum. She knew what he was doing, feeling her heartbeat still hammering away. He reveled in it.

“I think you do trust me, Alex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe x Halle- Forgive Me  
> Clipping- Say the Name
> 
> Spoilers for chapter 11  
> https://youtu.be/nd-Mk7qt4U4


End file.
